


The War That Never Was

by chunni



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - World War I, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bickering, Blood and Violence, Dark Germany - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Everyone Is In Denial, Explicit Sexual Content, Hints of Germany/Prussia/England, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Magic, Minor Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), Minor Character Death, Politics, Pseudo-Incest, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wishing Well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 67,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunni/pseuds/chunni
Summary: “I wish I’d be a real nation again.”Prussia makes a wish and ends up in the year 1965. It isn’t like the 1965 he remembers.
Relationships: England/Prussia (Hetalia), Germany/Prussia (Hetalia)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 93





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey to everyone who clicked on this story! :) [It's a new one but I promise I'll work on my uploaded WIPs as soon as possible!]
> 
> This was supposed to be a OS but the idea ran away with me and about 65k words later, here I am. The fic's finished and I'm going to upload a new chapter at least two times a week. I know the fandom's kind of dying, so I don't expect that much interaction, but I'm always happy about comments and kudos :) If you have constructive criticism, go ahead. If you find mistakes or strange sentences, please tell me as I'm not a native speaker and always learning.
> 
> I'm not sure how to tag the story because so much is happening, so if there's a tag you want me to add, please don't hesitate to say so. As it's usually the case with my stories, this one's rather dark and there is a lot of angst (though, there are hopeful and funny moments as well). I chose the Dubious Consent tag to be on the safe side: the sexual content is certainly not non-consensual but there's a lot of confusion and denial, so be wary of that. Don't read the story if any of the tags or the pairings trigger you.
> 
> (I don't want to spoil anyone but if you want to know which pairing will be endgame, I'll gladly tell you [even though I admit it is a bit confusing and not really fully solved, but that's how feelings are, right?])

**Prologue**

**~**

“You know… you don’t have to write that report. I’m sure they won’t even remember a thing of your presentation… why put that much effort into it?”

Prussia crossed his arms in front of his chest and pursed his lips. Germany didn’t appear to be listening but it was difficult to say when he had just his back to look at.

His brother was still wearing the white button-down shirt and the navy blue tie he had worn all day, only the black jacket was slung over the chair. It couldn’t be comfortable, especially after the tiring flight across the English Channel and the tiring three hours at the Heathrow airport they had spent waiting for their delayed luggage. Prussia was annoyed just thinking about it again. He usually didn’t attend the meetings and conferences Germany was invited to. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to change that? 

The day hadn’t begun too great but he had hoped it would end better, preferably involving a bar, lots of beer, and a bit of quality time with his brother. It didn’t look as if he would get his wish, though.

Sighing, he pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against. Approaching Germany and the table he was furiously scribbling notes after notes upon, Prussia could see the hard line of his tense jaw, the furrowed brows, the tired expression of his eyes. Why did he always have to work that hard?

It didn’t feel right to grin but Prussia did it, nevertheless, tugging at Germany’s arm. “Hey! I bet I can get Austria drunk enough to do karaoke. You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”

Germany shrugged him off without lifting his pen. It was still running over the page, leaving inky trails of economically relevant arguments and political terms.

“This is important, Prussia. If you can’t be quiet for an hour or two, leave the room and annoy someone else,” he said. There was a small pause in which Prussia’s grin faded away, in which he let the breath out between his teeth, wondering why he had even tried. _Annoy someone else_. He hadn’t even been really annoying! Germany should see him when he wanted to be annoying for god’s sake.

“I know… you’re bored because you’re not a nation anymore and you don’t know how to use that free time in a productive way…” The scribbling stopped. Germany looked up and it wasn’t more than a small nod to lock their eyes, a short interruption of a running machine, soon to be forgotten. “But I have responsibilities.”

It wasn’t quite anger but it was enough to make him snap. “Fine! Redo your dumb report, I don’t care… I hope the conference room burns down.”

He didn’t wait for a response because he knew he wouldn’t get an apology and an apology was the only thing that wouldn’t get up his temper even more. He didn’t remember opening the door out of their hotel room and he didn’t remember walking out of the hotel itself. He did remember passing by grey people and white walls and glaring lights.

There was a storm in his mind, a storm with brooding, dark clouds, with thunder and rain that kept pouring from an apocalyptic sky. When he managed to pull himself out of it and back to reality, he had already walked far enough not to be able to see the hotel’s lights anymore.

His pace grew slower until it stopped altogether and he was standing in the centre of the pavement, the gaze directed at his feet. He grimaced. Where should he go now? To a bar? He had gone out to drink on his own too often to count but there was something about the idea that made him taste bile. Maybe it was because he had gone out to drink on his own that often.

His heart skipped a beat when a middle-aged man shoved him out of the way, yelling something about him blocking the way. Prussia stumbled against the nearest wall, wincing when his arm hit the bricks at an unlucky angle, too surprised to do anything other than glaring after that bastard. He snorted. _I’d like to have your problems!_

This day wouldn’t get better, would it?

He began to walk again, still without a purpose, without an idea where to go. Though, if he was walking, he was doing something at least, he could pretend to know what to do. He could pretend not to be drowning in his thoughts.

London was big and loud and busy and even the late hours hadn’t changed that. Prussia hated the smiling faces and happy people in the corners of his eyes, the laughter in his ears that seemed to laugh at him, seemed to taunt him. _What are you doing here_ , it asked. _Why do you pretend to be something you’re not?_

“This is bullshit,” Prussia ground out, making a fist and loosening it again. He had to resist the urge to press his hands against his ears. “Ridiculous.”

He turned around a corner and it was a bit like running away. Maybe some part of him had known where to go after all because the alley was quiet. No red-lipped women drinking wine and chuckling at the jokes of their dates, no group of boys trying to cheat their way into a nightclub.

The buildings framing the street weren’t illuminated, almost as if they weren’t inhabited after all. Though, gaze roaming over them, he could see pots of flowers on some of the window sills, chains of lights behind the glass, turned off at the moment. On top of the roof was the statue of a dog, almost dark enough to blur into the night, and even though it was too far away to be sure, Prussia couldn’t help but think it was looking at him. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

When he lowered his gaze to the street again, he saw a well. It was in the centre of a small backyard, reminding him of medieval villages and past times in a way that made his neck tingle. In lack of a better idea, Prussia stepped closer.

It was an old well, he noticed. Its stones were weathered, yellowing plants growing through its cracks as if nature itself were trying to regain what humankind had stolen from it. When he looked inside he couldn’t see water, not even the ground. There was only darkness, even though it might have been different at daylight. He did see a small metal plate, three words artfully written on it. _Make a wish_.

Prussia snorted.

“Sure,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. As if this would really work. He wondered how many tourists had lost their coins to traps like this. It was crazy how humans were ready to trust something they couldn’t see or touch, something that shouldn’t even be possible. He shrugged, should have turned around by now. Why hadn’t he turned around yet?

He didn’t even have any money with him. His purse was still lying in that damn hotel room. He wouldn’t even be able to properly do this wishing well thing. Except…

Frowning, Prussia reached into the pocket of his coat and, sure enough, he felt the smooth surfaces of two euros and some sixty or so cents. Perhaps from going to the bakery last Sunday?

The tingling in his neck had spread, had grown more intense. It was like an itch, the feeling of ants crawling beneath his skin. He snorted but the sound was weak and shaky. Why shouldn’t he try it? Maybe he would feel better afterwards. Maybe he would feel like he could look Germany into his eyes again. He took one euro out of his pocket and closed his hand around it, pressing it to his chest.

“I wish…,” he began, whispering so as not to draw any unwanted attention to himself. The last thing he needed were nosy tourists laughing at him. He closed his eyes, hesitating. “I wish…”

What should he even wish for? What did he want?

What did he really want?

“I wish… I wish I’d be a real nation again.”

When he threw the coin down the well he didn’t hear an impact, only a small _pling_ as it touched the inner walls once. Then nothing.

Germany was already asleep when he arrived at the hotel. Lying down in the bed next to the windows, he didn’t feel any different. It was almost disappointing.

~


	2. The War That Never Was

**Chapter 1: The War That Never Was**

**~**

When Prussia woke up, it wasn’t in an English hotel.

He should have gotten suspicious after an alarm didn’t startle him and he was able to cling to the precious minutes before waking, before reality caught you in its iron grip. There were no dark thoughts in his mind when he sighed and rolled over. If he noticed the strange increase in size of the mattress, it didn’t bother him.

It was only when his mind caught up with what had happened the night before that he grimaced, eyes still closed. Why hadn’t Germany yelled at him yet? The meeting was in the early morning and it didn’t feel like early morning but much later. He should have felt tired if he had gotten less than six hours of sleep. Maybe he would feel tired any minute now? It was odd. Was Germany oversleeping as well? Maybe he had forgotten to set an alarm?

Prussia couldn’t help but snort at the thought. No way. His brother would rather set five different alarm clocks than oversleep. He opened his eyes and every thought in his mind vanished.

“Damn,” he muttered. This wasn’t their hotel room. It was unlike any room he knew.

He was lying in a canopy bed, dark red curtains tied to its posts with golden cords. There were at least four pillows, two blankets and a thin cover made entirely of golden threads and glimmering in the flickering sun light. When he turned his head he could see trees and a small lake behind a large window, its glistening water covered with water lilies.

Jumping out of the bed, he looked around the room, disbelief running through him. He saw a white marble statue in the corner of the room and a shelf with numerous documents and books. His gaze was caught by a detailed painting in a golden frame depicting a battle. It made his stomach flip.

Clenching his teeth, he stepped closer, taking in the colours and figures, the triumphant soldiers indulging in their battle cries. It reminded him of his past, and not in an entirely good way. Yes, he had loved the taste of victory once, he had loved to fight once, but you only had to endure that many battles to know there were no victors in war. He as well as any other nation had made mistakes and he didn’t want to relive those.

Still, something inside him couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the glorious days of the Kingdom of Prussia. Perhaps he was still dreaming? Perhaps his wish at the well had pulled this room out of his subconsciousness to remind him of his greater past.

There was a knock at the door. Prussia froze, gaze jumping from the painting to a white door with golden ornaments. Another knock.

“Prussia? Are you awake?” Germany. What the hell was Germany doing in his dream?

“Yeah?!” Prussia rolled his eyes. It was like Germany to force his opinions on him, even in his own dream. Of course, he wasn’t really awake if he was dreaming but Dream-Germany couldn’t know that, could he? 

“Well, I’ll enter then.”

There was a soft clicking sound as the handle was turned and Prussia realised with a shiver he was only wearing briefs. It wouldn’t be embarrassing to be shirtless in front of his brother but something about the imposing furnishing of the room made him feel underdressed, naked even. It was only a dream, and it wasn’t really his brother he would be talking to, and he might be waking up any moment now, but something made him run to the impressive wardrobe at the other side of the room. If he was doing this, he was doing it with style.

“Give me a second!” he yelled. “I just choose something to wear.”

The clothes in the wardrobe didn’t look like his usual clothes. There were no jeans or band shirts but a boring variety of white, grey, and black shirts and pants. What he did recognise were some uniforms he hadn’t seen in an eternity and some he didn’t even remember, adding to the nostalgia of the dream. Adding to the confusion, to an odd nervousness he couldn’t explain.

Frowning, he pulled on a pair of simple black pants as well as a white button down shirt. He was tucking it in when there was the sound of a door falling shut, of steps coming closer.

He turned around to face his brother and furrowed his brows even more. Germany’s blond hair was neatly slicked back as always, a brow raised in a half confused, half irritated fashion that was all too familiar.

However, he was wearing a uniform. It wasn’t a uniform Prussia knew and that made it even stranger. It did remind him of some of their former uniforms in the way it was cut, in its blue colour, even though its hue was darker. It wasn’t colourful or festive. Though, it didn’t seem to be made for combat, either. For diplomatic missions, a conference with politicians from another country perhaps? At the left side of his jacket Prussia glimpsed a golden order he didn’t recognise. Why would Germany wear anything like that? It might be a dream but his subconsciousness couldn’t be that military-focused, could it?

The events of the last century hadn’t really fuelled his love for it and Germany was even less supportive of war and military. Prussia knew he was still having nightmares about executions and mass graves, was still fighting his guilt day by day, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He wouldn’t wear a military uniform in the morning just because he felt like it. It didn’t feel right.

Prussia swallowed hard. As Germany approached him, he noticed something else, too. There was a confidence in his posture, an easiness in his pace that wasn’t like him. He was confident, yes, but he was also insecure deep inside, and there was always a tension in the lines of his face, in his movements, as if he could never let go of it and relax. Not now. This Germany looked as if he had barely any worry in the world, as if everything was just as he had planned it.

That was the moment Prussia began to doubt he was dreaming. It wasn’t more than a jump of his heart, a short wave of adrenaline, but the thought was there and it wasn’t going away.

“I’ve only arrived an hour ago but I wanted to see you first,” Germany said. He stopped barely a metre away from Prussia, the hint of a smile on his lips. “The preparation for the festivities are progressing well and France was exceptionally understanding when we talked. I don’t think his people will try anything like that again. Have you heard anything about Russia?”

Prussia frowned. What kind of festivities? What was this strange comment with France about? And why the hell was Germany interested in Russia? Crazy. He felt as if he were missing something and just couldn’t grasp it. He cleared his throat.

“Eh, not really, no.” He shrugged. It was the truth. He hadn’t seen Russia since the last World Cup and those weren’t memories he liked to revisit. What an embarrassment. However, he would have seen him at the conference in London. Or, well, he would still see him, wouldn’t he? He was dreaming after all.

Right?

Germany’s expression darkened, his brows drawn even closer together. “He’s lucky his land is that vast. Still, I didn’t think he’d be such a coward. It’s… sad, really. His people are struggling and he lets them die…”

A sigh. “Well, it doesn’t matter. We’ll get him sooner or later… we don’t need to worry about it.”

He paused. Their eyes met and there was something about Germany’s gaze that made Prussia want to look away. He couldn’t do it, if out of an urge to demonstrate strength or an inability to move, he couldn’t say. The silence was heavy like a chain around his neck, made only worse by this strange look. As if Germany expected him to do something, as if he were only waiting for him to make a move. He hadn’t asked a question, though. What could Prussia possibly say? This was getting weirder by the minute. Why couldn’t he wake up?

In the end, he didn’t need to say anything.

Germany made a last step toward him and he wondered why, wanted to back away reflexively. He didn’t get to do it because Germany’s lips were on his, pressing against him. There were hands at his chest, burning through the fabric of his shirt as if it weren’t there in the first place. Thrown off balance, he stumbled backward, hitting his back at the closed doors of the wardrobe, but Germany was following him, touching him, and he had no damn idea what to do.

Prussia knew it couldn’t be a dream. There was no way a dream could feel so real and there was no way in hell he could have dreamed up something like this. He didn’t know why he was here, he didn’t know what ‘here’ even was, and he didn’t know why his brother of all people was behaving like this, but he knew it had to be real.

He should have pushed Germany away but his mind was spinning, thoughts he couldn’t focus upon running wild, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

Germany stopped kissing him. Though, he didn’t back off but moved even closer. His lips were grazing Prussia’s cheek before he pressed his face against the nape of his neck, arms slung around his body in a sort of twisted embrace, warm breath tickling his skin. If Prussia hadn’t known who was embracing him like this, he might have enjoyed the feeling. As it was, he could barely feel anything except confusion and shock, trying to make sense of the things Germany had said, of this situation for god’s sake. He needed to get away, needed to clear his mind.

“I thought of you,” Germany whispered, voice oddly throaty. It seemed to be the only sound in the room, even louder than Prussia’s racing heartbeat. “All the way from France back to you. I thought of the things I could do to you…”

Prussia felt his face heat up, could feel a wave of heat running through his body, and a part of him wanted to close his eyes, wanted to feel things he definitely shouldn’t feel, no. This wasn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening. Why the hell was it happening?

Prussia took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way Germany’s chest felt against his, even beneath all the layers of the uniform. The uniform. The way he had been talking about France and Russia, as if they weren’t more than flies he could crush if he wanted to. Prussia grimaced, feeling ill.

With strength he hadn’t known he still possessed he managed to squirm himself out of Germany’s grip as quickly as he could.

“I… I’m, eh, s-sorry… I’m not feeling that well…,” he muttered, still breathless, still dizzy. He chuckled, desperately hoping he didn’t sound as fake to Germany as he sounded to himself. As his gaze flew to his hands, they were shaking. “I… I think it’s… s-something I ate. Maybe the flu.”

The silence was scary. Prussia thought Germany had to see through his thinly disguised lie but perhaps he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for.

“Well, you do look pale. Paler than usual, I mean.”

Prussia turned around so as not to make himself look even more suspicious although he wanted nothing more than to leave the room and be alone. To find something, anything, familiar to hold onto. Germany was looking at him with worry shining in his eyes. It made him look more like the Germany Prussia knew which was both reassuring and making him terribly uncomfortable.

“You should lie down. I’m certain the Emperor will excuse you from the meeting. There’re two weeks until the 50-years-celebrations and everything’s… well, most things are going well. You deserve a break.”

Prussia resisted the urge to clear his throat, to avoid Germany’s gaze. Despite the cold dread settling in his stomach, he forced himself to smile. “You’re right. I-”

There was a ringing, the noise ugly and broken like the sound of nails on a blackboard. Prussia frowned but Germany froze, eyes widening ever so slightly. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out something that looked like a mixture between radio and mobile phone. He pressed the device against his ear.

“Yes?!” he snarled, obviously displeased with being called right now. Prussia on the other hand couldn’t have been happier. Listening to whoever was talking to him, Germany’s eyes narrowed, his jaw working. “How could that happen? A nation doesn’t just disappear, you must have made a mistake.”

Germany briefly looked at him, shadows in his gaze that made Prussia shiver. “Excuse me, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Germany, scoffing, was talking to his strange device again even before he had left the room. “England wouldn’t go against direct orders, do you understand me?... no, answer the question.”

The door fell shut, leaving Prussia alone.

“Damn,” he muttered, exhaling shakily. His heart was still beating faster than it should but he felt as if he was able to organise his thoughts again. What did he know?

This Germany was enemies with everyone, or at least with France, Russia, and England. _Not just enemies_ , Prussia corrected himself. The word enemies implied a balance between the parties, the possibility for both to fight and hold their head high. It wasn’t like that. Germany had talked about them as if he considered himself superior. As if he knew he was. As if they didn’t stand a chance to fight back. As if they knew that, too.

Even worse, Germany saw him as an ally, which meant Prussia was involved in this mess as well. He didn’t want to know how big this involvement was, what kind of life this Prussia was leading, even though a part of him was wondering, speculating. His neck was tingling as if reminding him of something he should have already noticed. What did Germany say?

_I’m certain the Emperor will excuse you from the meeting_. The Emperor. Prussia’s body grew cold. He was shaking when he walked to the book shelf, pulling out documents after documents until he saw what he had been looking for.

A newspaper article dating back to the summer of 1914: _Sieg für den Kaiser!_ _Frankreich ergibt sich._

Another one, from 1915: _Deutsches Volk, heißt sie willkommen! Neubelgien und Großluxemburg nun Teil von Preußen._

And later: _England, Schweden, Norwegen und Italien neueste Mitglieder des Großdeutschen Handelsorden._

After a while, the letters seemed to blur into each other, or maybe it was just Prussia’s mind which didn’t want to comprehend them. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he let himself fall on the mattress, articles and handwritten pages out of notebooks scattered on the carpet like snow. He felt like throwing up.

_I wish I’d be a real nation again_ , he had said and he was. The Kingdom of Prussia still existed as part of the German Empire and he could feel the strength, the power in his veins. It existed because it hadn’t been dissolved after the Second World War, because there hadn’t been a Second World War in the first place. Because they had won the first one by a landslide. Because they had forced most of the opposing nations under their control, making them dependent on them, calling it support, calling it mercy.

The year was 1965 and Prussia was close to panicking.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations of the newspaper articles:  
> * Victory for the Emperor! France surrenders.   
> **German people, welcome them! New-Belgium and Great Luxembourg now part of Prussia.  
> ***England, Sweden, Norway, and Italy are newest members of the Great German Trade Association 
> 
> The reality Prussia is in now is inspired by the Schlieffen Plan and what would've happened if it had been successful:  
>  _The Schlieffen Plan was a name given after the First World War to German war plans, due to the influence of Field Marshal Alfred von Schlieffen and his thinking on an invasion of France and Belgium, which began on 4 August 1914. Schlieffen was Chief of the General Staff of the German Army from 1891 to 1906. In 1905 and 1906, Schlieffen devised an army deployment plan for a war-winning offensive against the French Third Republic. German forces were to invade France through the Netherlands and Belgium rather than across the common border._  
>  If you want to read more about it, [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schlieffen_Plan)'s the wikipedia page.


	3. The Aftermath

**Chapter 2: The Aftermath**

**~**

This wasn’t what Prussia had wished for. He hadn’t thought twice about his wish because it shouldn’t have worked. It had been a fleeting thought, pulled out of his subconsciousness by anger and frustration. Yes, he would love to be a real nation again, like his brother, like France and Spain, but not under these conditions.

He clenched his teeth. If Germany had just gone to the bar with him, they could have had a great evening, they might have been tired at the meeting, but he wouldn’t have had to worry about being stuck in this shit! He needed to get back to his reality, as soon as possible. Nation or not, everything was better than this.

Sighing, he rose and walked to the door, only to pause with his hand hovering above the handle. It wasn’t only 1965, and that had been a horrible year in the first place, it wasn’t even the 1965 he knew. He swallowed hard. What could he expect from what was outside of this room?

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back and pushed the handle down. The hallway was just as impressive as the bedroom, large paintings of sunlit landscapes, grand ships, and majestic buildings hanging on the walls. He couldn’t see anyone else but he still found himself sneaking around the corners like a burglar. He was, in a way. It wasn’t really his home after all.

After a while, the smell of freshly baked bread and orange juice hit his nose. Someone must have made or eaten breakfast. Germany perhaps? Were they living together? The building did seem big for a single person. They had been living together in his reality but he felt as if he would rather see this other Germany as little as possible.

The hallway ended in a large staircase, made of white marble by the looks of it. It made him wonder how expensive this mansion must have been. It made him wonder about the war they hadn’t lost and what had happened afterwards. A part of Prussia couldn’t help but be impressed, proud even, although he knew this victory was a lie.

Lost in thoughts, he followed the smell until he entered what appeared to be a dining room. The wooden table in its centre, large enough to fit ten people, was crowned by a golden chandelier. There was another door at the back of the room and a small stone plate told him it led to the kitchen.

Gaze wandering back to the table, he could see a basket with bread, cooked eggs, a plate with different sorts of fruit, another with cheese and ham, and too many jars of jam to count.

He only noticed the other person in the room after a few moments. She was putting a jug of orange juice on the table, the short honey blond hair hiding her face even though it was held back with a blue ribbon headband. A short-sleeved dress of the same colour fell to her ankles. He only called her after a moment of hesitation.

“Belgium?”

When she flinched and turned to look at him, he wished he hadn’t said anything at all. The dress was clean, ironed, and flattering her, which might be why he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary at first. Noting the way she was looking at him out of dull, widened eyes like a rabbit at a cat, he knew she wasn’t well. She wasn’t well at all.

She had lost weight, the bones of her cheeks prominent, her lips chapped and dry. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, visible even though she had clearly tried to hide them with make-up. Even worse, however, was the fading bruise at her temple, the bluish, newer ones on her left forearm, reminding him in a horrible way of a hand print. She made a small curtsy before clasping her hands, a weak smile beneath worried eyes. Still, the trembling of her fingers was all too visible.

“Good morning, Mr Prussia. I… I’ve prepared breakfast, as you can see, of course. Is… i-is there anything you want from me, Sir? I didn’t have time to make waffles but I could go back to the kitchen and prepare them for you.”

Prussia had to correct himself. This was even more terrible than Germany’s behaviour. Because it told him he was just as bad as his brother, if not worse, and he felt his throat go dry. One of the articles flew through his mind, the one talking about how Belgium and Luxembourg were part of his kingdom. This must have been the aftermath of that decision. Though, if Belgium was here, what had happened to Luxembourg? Was he here as well? Or was he…

Prussia shook his head, his stomach twisting. He didn’t feel hungry anymore. He opened his mouth but couldn’t get any words out of it. The urge to apologise was painful even though he knew it wouldn’t help her, even though it hadn’t really been him who had hurt her. Though, was it the truth?

Something burned inside him, eating him up from the inside, and there were memories, hidden well inside his mind, struggling to break free. War made people do terrible things. Still, he had changed, hadn’t he? He wouldn’t resort to such despicable means as fear and violence anymore.

“Eh, thank you,” Prussia mumbled, not daring to look into her eyes, lest he might get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. He needed to try to keep up the pretence at least. Gaze drawn to the table, he noticed there was only cutlery for one person. Frowning, he spoke before he could stop himself. “Why isn’t there a plate for you? You look as if you could use a good meal… and I can’t possibly eat all of that by myself.”

When he looked at Belgium he knew he had said something he shouldn’t have said.

“I… I don’t k-know…,” she murmured, gaze directed at anything but him. There were tears in her eyes, not yet rolling down her cheeks but horribly apparent. “I’m not… I m-mean…”

Dammit. Prussia rubbed his face. The last thing he had wanted to do was making her cry for god’s sake! He sighed.

“I don’t want to hurt you, please,” he said, damned be the consequences. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I… I just want to talk. I’m tired. I…”

 _I want to go back_.

Clenching his teeth, he walked over to the table and let himself fall in a chair. Looking at the food, he wrinkled his nose, would have loved to throw every single one of those bloodstained presents at the wall. Germany, how could he support this? How could he enjoy this?

 _It’s what nations do_ , a part of him mused. _We want to grow, we want to triumph, we want to prevail. We want to live. It’s in our nature._

It was easy to forget yourself in it. It was easy to ignore the memories because they kept adding up and you had to let go of them, or else you would go crazy. It had been easy to forget the darker parts of his own past but now they were circling through his mind once again and if he were to stay at this horrible place…

Growing cold, Prussia shook his head. He would get back, surely, and this wouldn’t be more than a nightmare, soon to be forgotten.

The scratching of a moving chair made him look up. Belgium was sitting opposite of him, her posture as tense as that of a deer caught in the headlights. _I’m sorry_ , Prussia thought. Hesitantly, he reached for an apple, the only thing his stomach might be able to digest.

The cracking sound of his bites was loud in the silence, made even more uncomfortable by the way Belgium was staring at him without moving a muscle. As if even the tiniest motion could be a mistake.

“The… the apple’s good,” Prussia said halfway through it as the silence became too unnerving. “You should try one. If… if you want to, I mean.”

Belgium’s eyes widened. She followed Prussia’s advice, though, taking small, slow bites out of an even smaller apple, all the while following his movements with wary glances. Still, it felt like progress.

Feeling a bit less guilty, Prussia made himself a sandwich and another one after eating that, hoping Belgium would see he had been honest with her. It was while he was spreading plum jam on his third one that he noticed Belgium slowly reaching for a toast. She didn’t put anything on it but she did eat it, and a few strawberries afterwards as well. Prussia almost let out a sigh of relief. It was going better than he had thought.

That was probably why it couldn’t last.

The door leading to the entrance hall opened and the noise was loud enough to make him turn his head. Of course, it was Germany, still wearing that damn uniform. He must have dealt with whatever the caller had told him.

Prussia didn’t have time to explain anything. Germany walked into the room and toward Belgium as soon as he noticed her. Belgium hastily let go of the strawberry she had been holding, stumbling in her hurry to stand up, to distance herself from the table.

“What is she doing here?” Germany snarled in a way that barely sounded like him. Prussia froze until he saw him grab her forearm, hindering her from leaving, his thumb pressing against her wrist in a way that made her pale face grew even paler. “Why is she eating with you at the table?”

Belgium’s green eyes were brimming with tears again, her whole body shaking. Germany lifted his other hand and she closed her eyes, bracing herself, but Prussia managed to place himself between them. He only barely caught the hand before the impending impact, stumbling because of the momentum. Germany hadn’t held himself back, he had felt that.

“Prussia…?” Germany whispered, stunned. His eyes were wide enough for the chandelier’s lights to be reflected in them.

Using the confusion of the situation, Belgium pulled her arm free, pressing it against her chest with a choked sob.

“Leave,” Prussia told her while his gaze was locked with Germany’s, their bodies frozen like two parts of a statue, connected only through their hands. It was surreal. Belgium didn’t need to be told twice. She turned around and ran, disappearing into the kitchen. Only after the door had fallen shut, Prussia spoke again, voice tainted by anger and frustration.

“Why did you want to hit her? She hasn’t done anything wrong.” He let go of Germany’s hand as if he had burned himself, gesturing to himself with wild movements. “I told her to eat with me. Punish me if you want to, not her, dammit.”

Germany let his hand down, a frown settling in his face. “Why would you do that?”

“I…” Prussia let the breath out between his teeth, scrambling for words to say. “Have you looked at her? She’s more dead than alive. She needed to eat something.”

Germany’s frown didn’t want to disappear. “You told me less than a week ago not to feed her because she didn’t deserve it.”

Shit. Prussia barely managed to keep a straight face. “Well, I’ve changed my mind. She… she belongs to me, doesn’t she? I decide what happens to her. She’s more worth alive than half-dead.”

Germany held his gaze for what felt like an eternity. He nodded slowly. “Alright… I have to admit I don’t understand you… but I don’t want to fight. There are more troubling news to discuss.”

He sighed. His hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“It appears England isn’t in London anymore. There are witnesses claiming they’ve seen him at the port of Harwich…,” a low groan, “I don’t understand why he’s doing this. He should’ve known better. What does he want to gain by fleeing his country? Does he want to go wherever Russia has disappeared to? Try to form an alliance?”

He looked up again, the lines of his face tense, his jaw working. It was such a difference from when Prussia had first seen him and yet oddly familiar in a way that made him shiver. _This isn’t my brother_ , he reminded himself, but there was a part of him that wondered. Wondered if it could have been like this, once. If they could have been like this.

“What do you think, Prussia? You’ve known him for a long time. Why’s England doing this?”

 _England…?_ Thoughts still clinging to Belgium, the war, and his unfortunate situation, Prussia needed a few moments to remember what Germany was talking about.

 _I don’t know what this England’s up to_ , he wanted to say. _I don’t care for this world. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad for England to fight back._

He shrugged instead. “I don’t know. Could be anything, really…”

Should he try to help England even though he had no idea what he was trying to do? Prussia had never been on best terms with him but whatever England was trying to do couldn’t be worse than what the German Empire had been doing those last fifty years, right? Still, he couldn’t bring himself to lie for an England he didn’t know to a man who was so much like his brother.

“Isn’t… isn’t there a meeting we need to attend?”

Germany paused, eyes roaming over him. He raised his brows. “You’re feeling better?”

Prussia swallowed hard, trying for his best grin. “Sure. Like I’ve told you… it wasn’t that big of a deal. Case of mild food poisoning, happens to the greatest.”

When Germany smiled, he looked just like his brother, maybe even more so, and Prussia felt warmth bubbling up inside him. There wasn’t just love in his gaze but respect and appreciation as well and he didn’t know when he had last felt such a gaze directed at him. 

“I’m glad you’re able to accompany me… but I’m even gladder you’re well. I was getting worried your sudden illness had to do with our people…”

Germany lifted a hand to let it rest on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. The kiss he gave him didn’t bother Prussia as much as it should have.

~

He needed to change into a uniform for the meeting with the Emperor. It didn’t feel right to wear it and his skin was itching every time he focused too much on the fabric. He didn’t want to go, but he knew it would be a great opportunity to get to know this world, so that he would be able to find a way back. Perhaps he needed to find that wishing well again and do a reverse-wish? He should try to get a mission to London.

Back in his room he noticed the same device Germany had used earlier. He shoved it into his pocket, hoping he wouldn’t be forced to accept any calls. Germany had excused himself to make some more calls, to write some more notes. Just as Prussia got nervous he wouldn’t be able to go to the meeting after all and his cover would be blown, Germany returned.

The meeting itself was… surprisingly unspectacular.

In the beginning Prussia had been wary, too afraid to say anything, heart and mind a jumbled, shaky mess. He had recognised some of the generals, the Emperor himself, and some of the other men who were present. Still, they hadn’t quite been the men he had known. Some who should have died years ago were alive and well. Some had grey hair, wrinkles, and potbellies, making them almost unrecognisable. Some weren’t behaving like themselves as if they had just stolen the looks of the men Prussia had thought to know.

They were mostly talking about the anniversary celebrations, talking about forcing people in other nations to celebrate their own loss of freedom with smiles, mockery, and laughter. Prussia grinned while trying not to gag. Had he been like this in the past? He didn’t want to believe it.

Germany didn’t participate in any of the jokes and glared at some of the more boisterous men who quickly shut up. Though, Prussia couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t approve of the content or if he didn’t approve of making jokes at a serious meeting in the first place.

The longer the meeting dragged on, the harder it was to focus on it. By the time they passed the second hour Prussia was propping himself up on the table, head resting in his palm, eyelids heavy and mind sluggish. He tried to look interested but he could have been looking like a mental patient just as well. Even in the past he had always felt more at home on the battlefield trying to outsmart his opponents than sitting around, listening to old men talking about old ideas. His emotional state jumped between boredom and disgust more than once and he didn’t know which was worse.

He tried to talk as little as necessary but he shouldn’t have been worried about it in the first place. Hardly anyone asked him for his opinion and everyone smiled when he congratulated them for a oh so great suggestion or idea. Only the most high-ranking soldiers and the head of state knew about the true origins of Germany and him as they were usually going by their incognito human names at meetings like this. However, everyone knew they were special and the respect of the Emperor was enough to gain them respect as well.

Strangely, Germany didn’t mention England at all even though he had appeared to be quite bothered by the situation. Perhaps he thought the situation would solve itself soon enough. 

There was a small dinner afterwards. Though, it only consisted of cheese plates and too many expensive bottles of wine, some of them French and some Italian, which only made Prussia feel worse as he carried his still untouched glass around. He couldn’t bring himself to take even a small sip.

He tried to make small talk, all the while itching for an opportunity to leave. He felt as if he should get an Oscar for his acting performance. The corners of his mouth were hurting from forcing them to move upwards that much. Still, there was a growing nervousness inside him as well, making him restless and dizzy. The longer he had to stay here, the easier it would be to be discovered. He felt like the only one in t-shirt and pants at a costume party and that was describing it in an optimistic way.

He managed to struggle through two more hours, watching more and more generals leave while Germany didn’t show any signs of wanting to follow them. Prussia would have left without him but he had no idea what the address of the mansion was and even if he had known, they had arrived with the same car and driver. It wasn’t a possibility.

He waited until Germany wasn’t involved in an unnecessary conversation anymore and walked up to him. A lopsided grin on his face, he touched his arm to make him look up. “I’m tired. Let’s leave, yeah?”

Germany nodded, looking as if he had just been waiting for Prussia to ask. What an irony. Bidding goodbye and calling their driver took another half-hour. When Prussia stepped into the entrance hall of the mansion again he couldn’t help but sigh with relief.

Everything had gone alright, he hadn’t felt any suspicious glances, and yet it had been one of the most stressful evenings he had ever been through. He wasn’t even hungry even though he hadn’t eaten much during the day. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up in his own reality again but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy.

The mansion was quiet when Prussia walked up the stairs and a part of him thought of Belgium, where she was sleeping, what she was thinking of that incident in the dinner room. His mind wandered to Luxembourg and his possible fate. If Prussia was being honest, he could feel it, the power that came with conquering new lands, and a part of him knew Luxembourg must have faded away.

Noticing a second pair of steps behind him, the question if Germany was living here as well popped up in his mind once more. Would it be alright to say goodnight and shut the door? He felt his stomach lurch, a new nervousness settling in his body. What did Germany expect from him?

Their relationship was different than in his reality, that much was evident. Germany loved him, desired him, and Prussia… he had never thought of his brother in that way. He had joked about Germany’s love life, or the lack thereof, in the past, but he had also thought there was something with Italy going on, and maybe there was. Who knew?

As far as Prussia knew the Germany from his reality had never wanted to kiss him, either. Perhaps it was one of those twists in time, brought to life by his wish and the lie of their victory. Perhaps he shouldn’t waste much thought on the matter.

Still, when Germany was still with him as he walked down the hallway to his room, he decided to say something. He couldn’t say what was bothering him but that didn’t mean he had to stay silent. He stopped and turned around on the spot. Maybe h should have drunk that glass of wine. Maybe his throat wouldn’t have been that dry then.

“Hey… I, eh, I feel like I wasn’t really myself today a-and I just want to say… I’m sorry.” Prussia tried to smile. Germany, frowning after the sudden stop, seemed to relax a bit.

“No need to apologise. A lot of things are happening, the Empire’s growing… there’s a lot of work for both of us. The new objective…” A small pause, a small sigh. “I know Austria and Hungary have been our friends for the longest time. I don’t blame you for getting worked up about it. Still, it’s the right thing to do if we want to support our people. You know that.”

It wasn’t what Prussia had wanted to hear and it made even less sense. Austria and Hungary, still married in this world, were their allies, weren’t they? However, Germany didn’t give him much time to ponder the topic.

“I know I can count on you,” he said. There was an intensity in his voice and gaze that made Prussia shiver, drawing him in. He might have forgotten to breathe. “You’re… you’re the only one I can trust.”

 _That’s sad_ , Prussia thought. Though, he couldn’t help but feel proud, something inside him smiling at the words. If only his Germany were that generous with compliments.

“Eh, thanks…,” he mumbled, oddly choked up. Rubbing his neck, he couldn’t quite meet Germany’s eyes.

He held his breath when there was a hand at his chin, a thumb caressing his cheek. There was warm breath he shouldn’t feel, and when had Germany decided to step closer? This shouldn’t be happening. He had stopped walking just so it wouldn’t be happening. Why…

Prussia took a shaky breath. He couldn’t look up but perhaps that was because he couldn’t move at all, because his mind was too busy creating images he didn’t want to see. The hand wandered to his neck, playing with the hair, pulling, pushing ever so slightly. He knew what would come next, had played this game too many times before, if not quite like this, and yet he didn’t do anything.

There was another gentle nudge against the back of his head and they were kissing, lips melting against each other as if it were only natural for them to do so.

When Germany opened his mouth Prussia followed him because he couldn’t help it, because his body was tingling, because he wasn’t strong enough to pull away. As their tongues grazed each other Prussia could feel a shudder going through Germany, the slow hesitation from the beginning disappearing.

The hand at his neck pressed them closer, the fingers digging into his skin in a way that should have been painful even though Prussia didn’t feel more than a prickling sensation, a wave of heat. There was another hand at his hip, wandering up and down as if it couldn’t stay still, restless and blazing. Mind hazy, Prussia reached out to let his fingers run over Germany’s back, feeling his muscles even through all those layers of clothes, and, damn, it shouldn’t have been that sexy.

Prussia might have lost himself in the sensations if there hadn’t been a ringing, high and glaring like a flashlight in the darkness. They were both panting slightly when Germany stepped away from him, pulling out his strange excuse for a mobile phone. He stared at it, pausing as if he couldn’t decide if it would be worth to accept the call. In the end, his sense for following the rules must have outweighed the alternatives.

“Yeah?” he asked in a low, hoarse voice. He was quiet for a long while, almost long enough for Prussia’s mind to catch up with what he had done, what he had allowed to happen. When Germany spoke again, he was frowning, irritation and confusion evident. And he was talking to Prussia.

“They got England. He’s in Hanover. He… he handed himself in. It appears he’s ready to talk… but only to you.”

~


	4. An Old Enemy

**Chapter 3: An Old Enemy**

**~**

That was how Prussia ended up in Hanover at 10 pm.

It hadn’t been easy to convince Germany to let him go. There was the possibility of a trap, made to hurt them and the Empire. Why should England hand himself in if not to gain something? And what was there to gain by talking to Prussia?

He thought about that question all the way from Berlin to Hanover, rain pattering against the windows of the car, the summer sky a fading blue. Perhaps he would have had an answer if he had been the Prussia of this reality, perhaps there was a past event explaining all of this. However, Germany was just as confused as him. It didn’t make sense.

Perhaps England had simply gone crazy? Prussia clenched his teeth, glancing down at his hands. After seeing what Belgium had been reduced to, he felt sick just thinking about the other nations. England, what would he look like? What would he be like?

Those were questions a part of him didn’t want an answer to. Still, he couldn’t help but be curious, couldn’t help but he hopeful that this development might bring him closer to his real home. Perhaps he could volunteer to accompany England back to his country?

What he didn’t think about was what had happened in the hallway of the mansion. The mere presence of Germany next to him in the backseats was enough to remind him of it every time his gaze wandered astray but he refused to get lost in those thoughts. It had happened, yes, but it wouldn’t happen again, and he would forget about it as if it had never happened at all. He would be fine.

A man in uniform was expecting them. He was middle-aged, had a long, reddish face and a dark, well-trimmed goatee. There was the coldness in his eyes that came with watching people die, his posture tense and stiff. He bowed down before them as they got out of the car.

After the usual introductory talk, he repeated what Germany had already explained to Prussia in the car. England had managed to escape their grip a few times only to hand himself over in Hanover. According to the man, he hadn’t offered any resistance whatsoever, had offered his wrists to be handcuffed without being told to, hadn’t even reacted to the insults of some of the lower-ranking soldiers. He hadn’t carried any weapons or bombs or electronical devices which could have been used to spy. However, he hadn’t answered any of their question either, had ignored violence and threats with stoic silence.

“I want to talk to Lieutenant Gilbert Beilschmidt,” he had said. “Alone. Get him to me as soon as possible.”

Those were the only words they had been able to get out of him after five hours.

The building they kept him in was in the more rural, outer part of the city, far away from nosy neighbours and playing children. It was boring to look at, the walls high and thick and painted ash grey. The windows were small and seldom to be found. There were metal bars hindering people from escaping and soldiers circling the site of the building with precision and silence.

Prussia felt anxious as he entered the building even though he wasn’t a prisoner himself. However, he knew some of the thoughts circling through his mind would be enough to get him tortured and executed if someone knew about them, and that was enough to make him shudder.

There were three guards in front of the door England was in. When Prussia walked towards them, waiting for the keys to be turned, he could see Germany’s expression darken.

“You get 15 minutes. We don’t want to take chances,” Germany said, crossing his arms. “England tells you why he’s run away from London and we might take it into consideration when determining his punishment. He needs to know he won’t get away with something like this. Prussia?”

“Yeah, I know.” Prussia made a dismissive gesture, snorting. He showed his best grin. “I’m taller, smarter and more attractive than this guy. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

Germany didn’t look relieved. “Well, be careful.”

Prussia wasn’t smiling anymore when he entered the room, silence pressing onto him as soon as the heavy door fell shut behind him. There was only a small light in the centre of the ceiling and no windows which made the shadows in the corners of the room all the more dark and eery.

England himself was sitting at a table, cuffed hands clasped upon its surface. As if the cuffs hadn’t been enough, he had been tied to the chair with a thick rope which couldn’t have left his lungs much room to breathe. His head rose at the noise of Prussia’s steps. They hadn’t been nice to him.

Prussia gulped as he saw the blue bruise at his cheek, the scratches, glaringly red against his pale skin. There was a cut at his upper lip, drops of blood running down his chin. When he opened his mouth, it was to a bloody smirk.

“Prussia.” England straightened his back as much as he could, wincing at the movement. Still, his green eyes were as bright and determined as always and they were looking at him as if they were trying to scan both his body and mind.

“England, my old friend.” Prussia grinned at him, hands balled to keep them from shaking. “You don’t look too well.”

England ignored the comment. “I trust this talk won’t be recorded.”

“Eh… no.” Prussia sat down opposite of him, crossing his arms. It was a lie. There was a device in the pocket of his pants designed to record their voices as they spoke. Though, England didn’t need to know that, right? Prussia didn’t feel comfortable doing it but there was no good reason not to do it. Germany would ask him for it afterwards, there might even be a meeting discussing every word England had spoken. Why should he go against orders for no other reason than a bad feeling?

“Even if it were, you’re not in a position to negotiate anyway.”

England raised his brows, the hint of a smile in his face that was both sad and mocking. “I promise you… you don’t want to record our talk.”

“Well, do you want to tell me why you’ve left your country or do you want to keep talking in riddles? We’ve got 15 minutes.”

England snorted, scattering tiny red drops on the table’s surface. He closed his eyes. His breathing was loud when he inhaled, exhaled shakily. “Well… where do I begin?”

He looked up, their gazes meeting. Prussia could see anger, fear, frustration, all of them flickering lights as if England couldn’t decide how to feel. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring as he spoke. His gaze was burning. “I hate you, Prussia. I really, really do. This… is the worst, the very worst thing you’ve ever done and you’ve done a lot of dumb things. Bloody hell, I still can’t believe it.”

England spat a ball of pink saliva to the floor, his face a grimace of pain. Prussia frowned, a cold shiver running down his back. He felt as if he should know what England was talking about but that couldn’t be, right? His throat went dry. “W-what… do you mean?”

“Your wish!” England snarled, eyes screaming murder. “You’ve asked for this for whatever awful reason and now we’re stuck here. Well, at least I refuse to believe you’ve wanted this to happen…”

Prussia couldn’t breathe. “M-my… w-wish?”

“Your wish. The one you made in London. I felt it. It’s my country and my magic after all…” England lowered his gaze, frowning. “I didn’t expect it to be that powerful… it must be part of the ancient spells.”

Everything. Prussia had tried to think of everything he knew about this new world and the last to make sense of England’s behaviour. This possibility hadn’t even crossed his mind. Those words didn’t make sense. They would only make sense if…

“You’re my England,” Prussia said, insides twisting. “The England from my reality. Oh my god…”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. It seemed too good to be true not to be alone in this confusing, frightening world anymore, to have someone to share his fate, as despicable as he felt for the thought alone. Nobody deserved to go through this, not even England. Still, he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He rubbed his eyes but England didn’t disappear, was still glaring at him out of reddened eyes.

“How can you be here?”

“The better question is how do we get back,” England said. “We need to hurry… I don’t know how long we’ll be able to…”

“Wait. Why shouldn’t we be able to return?” Noticing the way England’s expression darkened, Prussia felt as if he were falling into a half-frozen lake.

“You really have no idea, have you?” A deep sigh. “This isn’t like one of your silly films about time travel with infinite parallel universes where we conveniently choose our reality and walk over in the blink of an eye. There’s no such thing as our reality anymore. There’s just one reality, this one… and an old one, fading like a memory. Soon we’ll be forgetting our old selves… at least that’s what I’m expecting. We have to find a way to get back before that happens… or else this’ll be the only reality anyone ever knew.”

“Oh shit,” Prussia groaned. “Couldn’t you have phrased it a bit more hopeful?”

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Prussia!” England was yelling loudly enough for Prussia to wince, for him to wonder if anyone might have heard them. It didn’t make him feel less anxious. “I let myself get beaten up for a talk with the almighty lieutenant, my people are starving, I feel myself getting weaker by the minute… and it’s probably only getting worse after I’ve broken a few of your darn laws. It’s easy for you to laugh and shrug it off. You’re on the victor’s side, Prussia. I… am not.”

Prussia froze, guilt eating him up from the inside. In his relief he had almost forgotten about England’s pitiful state. He cleared his throat. “I… I’ll help you. We’ll figure something out.”

England didn’t say anything, his lips trembling as if he were forcing back words he might have said otherwise. He had lost most of his tension, was slumping in his chair, gaze swimming with fatigue. Prussia tried not to think of what he must have been through while he himself had been bored at a meeting and enjoyed breakfast. How much time did they have left? 15 minutes didn’t seem all that much to him now. There were no clocks, no way to know how much time had passed.

“You’ve said this wishing well thing was possible because of magic? Your magic?” Prussia laughed shakily. “I didn’t know you were a wizard.”

England sighed.

“Magic’s everywhere… you just need to know where to look for it. Haven’t you ever wondered why some people turn their lives around from one day to another? How some things stay unexplained, are called a miracle, a lucky coincidence? There’s your answer. Some people stumble upon it by accident, ignorant of what they’ve discovered…” He shot a glare at Prussia. “It’s not my fault you aren’t able to detect the more subtle energies of nature.”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know this damn thing was actually working? I thought it wasn’t more than an old wishing well. There was no warning sign. Should I have screamed and fled in fear from a bunch of weathered stones?!”

“You shouldn’t have blindly followed instructions of something you can’t comprehend!” England scoffed. Prussia felt anger sparking through his body, fuelled by his frustration and helplessness about the situation. If he was to blame for throwing a coin down a well, England was just as guilty for not telling him of the oh so apparent dangers of his dumb country.

“What?!” he snarled. “Are you calling me stupid? Why are you still here if you’re such an expert, Mr Magic?”

“I-“

They froze when the sound of moving keys rang through the room, every trace of anger wiped from their faces. Prussia’s blood ran cold and a glimpse at England told him he was just as shocked as he himself. 15 minutes couldn’t have passed already, could they? Damn. What was he supposed to do?

Prussia tried not to groan. He didn’t have a reason for England’s behaviour because he couldn’t tell them the truth, he still didn’t know how to get home, and England had nicely pointed out he might never be able to. In addition to that, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was responsible for England being here, for him being hurt, and he had no idea how to convince Germany and the others to let him go. They should be enemies for god’s sake!

Well, there was one thing he needed to do first. He reached into his pocket and deleted every word the recorder had saved. He would need to think of an excuse for the loss of the recordings but there was no way in hell anyone other than them would get to know a word from this conversation.

The door opened.

When Germany entered the room, Prussia hurried to stand up. His mind was racing, trying to find a solution. There were drops of sweat running down his neck and temple, if from the summer’s heat and being enclosed in this small, windowless room or from his rising panic, he couldn’t say.

“Time’s up,” Germany said, regarding England with a cold look. They had hardly been best friends in their true reality but the utter lack of sympathy in his eyes sent shivers down Prussia’s spine. With Germany being thoughtful and nice to him, it was easy to forget he was part of the victorious nations of a worldwide war and behaving like one to anyone other than him.

“I hope you’ve got a good reason for what you did, England,” Germany said. “I thought we had an agreement. You stay in your country and don’t get involved in international policies and we let you keep the majority of your autonomy over your people… while pledging allegiance to the Emperor, of course.”

England wasn’t looking at him, gaze directed at his cuffed hands on the table, thumb running up and down the metal. There were bloody specks on the wooden surface, small and colourful like strokes of a brush. Knowing England wasn’t from this world made it even worse for Prussia. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have been put in chains and beaten up. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t wished for anything like this.

Germany sighed as England stayed silent and turned to face Prussia. “I see. Did you get anything out of him?”

Prussia didn’t dare to meet his gaze. He would love to follow England’s example and stay silent but that wasn’t in the realm of possibility for him. If he were to openly support England, there would be more than raised brows and mild confusion, that much was certain. Still…

“Oh, he talked to me,” Prussia said, his grin painful. “Sang like a canary. What can I say, I’m irresistible…”

“And?”

“I…” He cast a glance at England but he couldn’t even see his expression, let alone get a helpful sign or note from him. He had to figure something out on his own and quickly at that. “Eh, England… he’s… well, he doesn’t want to fight us anymore.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to fight us… there’s no chance he’d win.” Germany crossed his arms, a brow raised as if asking _that’s all you’ve got_? “Still, he did fight us and there are repercussions for that.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” Prussia quickly reassured, neck tingling. “He’s ready to side with us, support us… and help us. He… h-he knows what Russia’s up to and wants to help us destroy him.”

Germany’s eyes widened. It wasn’t a big motion but it was enough for Prussia to know he had moved the right chess piece.

“Really?” Germany mused aloud. His voice didn’t reveal his interest but Prussia knew he would have reacted differently if it weren’t there. Germany turned to England. “Is that true? England?”

When there wasn’t a reaction Prussia felt his stomach flip, his neck itching with sweat. What would he do if England didn’t confirm his story? Yes, it wasn’t the best one, there were too many open questions and even more risks, but it had been the best thing he had been able to come up with under this pressure. Should he start praying to god?

“Yes,” England said, voice surprisingly firm. There was nothing to be deduced out of it, no hidden disdain, no frustration, no anger. Even Germany didn’t seem to be able find anything to criticise at the answer because he turned away from him.

“Why should we trust him? We haven’t seen or heard anything from Russia for almost fifty years and it wasn’t for lack of trying… why should he have any information we don’t?”

“For the same reason we know more about Austria and Hungary than he.” Prussia raised his chin. “They’ve been allies. Russia’s been trying to contact him for the last two months.”

Germany seemed to consider the words even though the tension didn’t disappear from his face, his jaw working.

“Well, it’s a possibility,” he admitted. “Still, the mere possibility of a situation doesn’t make it true and it doesn’t make him trustworthy. We’ve dealt with this in the past, with enemies and allies alike. There’s no one we can trust. Especially not England.”

Damn Germany and his suspicion. Still, Prussia couldn’t give up that easily. “He seemed pretty convincing to me.”

Germany frowned. “That’s another thing. Why should he choose you to talk to? He could have spared himself a lot of pain if he’d already talked to the soldiers.”

“W-well… er, he… he thought they wouldn’t believe him for the same reasons you mentioned. He wanted to talk to me because he knew he would be able to convince me of the truth of his intentions. You probably aren’t aware of it but… h-he…”

_Oh, please don’t let England kill me_ , Prussia prayed bracing himself. This idea was crazy but it might just be crazy enough to be convincing. He took a deep breath. “He fell pretty hard for me back in 1814 at the Congress of Vienna. He never really let go of those feelings…”

Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see England’s shoulders stiffen, his fingers curling up until they were almost making fists. Luckily, Germany didn’t notice any of this, his attention still directed at Prussia. There was a change in his expression, a loss of his usual straight face, different emotions flickering through his eyes.

Prussia half-expected him to call his bluff, to call the soldiers to arrest him for treason, because the story was unbelievable and his lies as see-through as a glass of water. He clenched his teeth and waited for a blow that never came.

“England’s… in love with you?” Germany asked slowly, his eyes narrowed.

“Uh, I guess… if you want to put it that way… yes,” Prussia said before England could forget himself and their shitty situation and ruin his plan by yelling no in a hundred different languages. He shrugged. “Of course, he doesn’t want to… who can blame him?”

He gestured to their surroundings, hoping Germany would get the hint. It was madness to believe the England of this world would even want to see Prussia in any other way than dead after what the German Empire had done to Belgium and most of the other European nations. Still, it was the only reason for him to suddenly switch sides Prussia had been able to think of.

Germany didn’t say anything for a long moment. Prussia held his breath and raised a brow meeting his gaze with what he hoped was patient anticipation. It was Germany who averted his eyes first and the room lost its tension like a balloon its air.

“I have to think about it,” he said, a frown in his face that didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. He began to walk towards the door, gesturing to Prussia to follow him.

Before stepping out of the room, Prussia cast a last look at England, meeting what could only be described as a grimace of disbelief and anger. Stomach twisting, he mouthed an apology even though he couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at him as well. It wasn’t as if they had had much of a choice! England could have given him a few ideas during their talk instead of insulting him, maybe they would have been better off then.

They hadn’t distanced themselves much from England’s prison cell when Prussia caught up with Germany.

“What do you suggest we’ll do with him?” Prussia asked, keeping his voice low. He didn’t want Germany to think he was too gullible. It wouldn’t make sense for him to support England right off the bat even though that was what he wanted to do. He felt bad enough for leaving him behind in that dimly lit cell, he couldn’t let him be tortured for information or worse.

Germany didn’t reply. It was only after they had turned around a corner that he nodded towards an empty room. “We shouldn’t discuss this in public.”

Prussia wouldn’t have described a secret military base solely filled with German soldiers as public but he didn’t want to disagree with Germany either. The room was filled only with dust and dirt, the walls bare, the floor littered with flakes which came off its greyish paint. As Prussia looked closer, he noticed several shot holes and some dark, yet fading spots that might have been blood once. He shivered. When he turned around, the door was closed and Germany was observing him with the hint of a frown.

“Do you really think he speaks the truth?”

Prussia licked his lips and gathered his thoughts.

“I do,” he said slowly. “You’ve said it yourself. I’ve known him for a long time… I know he’s been… misguided but those last fifty years did leave their mark on him.”

Hopefully, this England hadn’t loudly called for rebellion last month or had done something else that was going against the lies Prussia was trying to sell. Germany didn’t intervene, so he continued.

“I’m just as suspicious as you,” he reassured. “However, I don’t believe England would do this for any other reason. What good would it do him to lie to us? Yeah, he could secretly be working against us but do you really think he’d have the slightest wisp of a chance against us and our people? Even if he were trying to mobilise France and Russia and some of his former allies, they’re much too weak to fight us.”

Prussia raised a brow. “Is it so hard to believe he wants to be in our good graces again? He could’ve fought our soldiers but he didn’t even bring a weapon to defend himself. I say we use what he has to offer.”

Germany tilted his head, gaze unblinking and tense. “I don’t like this,” he muttered. “England. This situation. And just before the celebrations at that…”

_He didn’t reject my idea yet_ , Prussia thought, the hint of a smile making the corners of his mouth twitch. Another nudge into the right direction, a little bit of convincing, and England would be as good as free.

“I can’t trust him,” Germany growled, losing his stiff posture before beginning to circle the room as if the motion could help him decide. Prussia winced. This wasn’t what he had wanted to hear. He took a shaky breath, glad Germany seemed too caught up in his own thoughts to notice his tension.

“What… what if he’d prove his loyalty to us?” Prussia suggested, stomach already twisting as the words left his mouth. He gulped.

Germany froze, leaving the room oddly silent without the sound of his heavy boots, without their voices. “I see… yes. That might be it. You’re right, Prussia… I… I’m not…” Silence. A sigh. “Well, you’re right. It’s worth a try. We can’t risk losing information about Russia even if it’s England providing it…”

The way Germany said the name left no doubt how he felt about him, a sound like choking back bile.

“We should head back to Berlin,” he added. “I’ll talk to the general. England will be transferred to a cell close to us where he’ll stay until we… can be certain of his intentions. And, Prussia, please leave the recorder on my desk.”

Their gazes crossed and Prussia felt as if a cold claw were curling around his neck, probing how it would feel to crush it. There was something about Germany’s expression that felt like a challenge, the mere raising of his brow daring him to disagree, and Prussia fought against the urge to avert his eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope and it was only a question of time until he would fall into the abyss. He had risked a lot and he had won this round but there was still a long way to go.

He nodded, gesturing towards the door. “You go first.”

~

Prussia woke up when the driver hit the brakes and his head met the seat in front of him. Tired, he could only groan, blinking as his mind joined his body in its awakening. His forehead was throbbing and he pressed his palm against it, frowning. He couldn’t remember closing his eyes but it must have happened somewhere between Braunschweig and Magdeburg. A look out of the window confirmed that they were back at the mansion, the building now eerily white beneath the moonlight, its windows dark. The branches of the birches growing around the gravel path leading to the entry door were swaying in the wind as if waving him hello. 

As Prussia followed the path he couldn’t help but think of Belgium again, memories forcing their way into his thoughts. He grimaced wondering if he would even be able to sleep with images not only of her but also of England screaming at him. With fictive images of France, Russia, and Luxembourg, created by his all too creative, masochistic mind. With images of bruises and thin arms and yellow skin and lifeless eyes, the death before death. 

The majesty of the mansion was like a slap in his face and Prussia felt sick. He didn’t want to sleep inside these walls. He didn’t want to be here at all. What a joke of a wish fulfilment. Prussia opened the door because he had to do it. _England’s right_ , a part of him whispered, _I’m stupid because only a fool would ask for this._

The recorder in his pocket felt heavy and he reached inside, playing with the buttons. He couldn’t put it on the desk, could he? Germany would notice the missing conversation soon enough. Wouldn’t it be better to think of an excuse now? Prussia gave in to the urge to yawn, blinking with heavy eyelids.

“I’m too tired for this shit...,” he muttered. Turning around, he saw Germany close the door and brush off the dirt of his boots. Better now than later.

“Germany,” Prussia called and the name left an itch on his tongue, seemed wrong, _was_ wrong as this wasn’t the Germany Prussia knew. At least not entirely. Still, the blue eyes looking at him were those of his brother, could only be his. It wasn’t fair. 

“I deleted the record of my talk with England,” he said. 

Germany didn’t even twitch. Either he didn’t care or, more probable, he was too much of a professional to show his concern. Though, as Prussia focused on him, he thought his body was more tense, his back a little more straightened. Like that of a hunter waiting to make his move.

“Why?” 

It was calm, oddly calm. Prussia wondered what it would take to make him lose it. What would make this Germany, who hadn’t seen a lost battle, who didn’t know the taste of defeat yet, snap? Something inside him wanted to tell him everything just to see his reaction but he quickly shook that thought off. 

“I didn’t want anyone to know about it. It’s important to keep it a secret... so we have the element of surprise. What if France gets his hands on these recordings? We can’t risk that.” Prussia raised a brow, refusing to let his nervousness be shown. Perhaps he was too daring, dangerously so even, but he didn’t want to be afraid of Germany. He shouldn’t be. In this world they were just as strong, just as victorious. Even if Germany was getting suspicious, he wouldn’t be able to prove Prussia wasn’t the person he should be. It couldn’t be more than a vague bad feeling, nothing to worry about. A smile danced over Prussia’s face. “You trust me, don’t you?” 

Germany made a few steps forward.

“I do,” he said. It seemed as if he wanted to add something, the words leaving an anticipating tension in the room like low-flying birds before a storm. Though, he stayed quiet and left no hints as to what that something was. It was the best Prussia could have hoped for. He considered turning around and going upstairs when Germany walked up to him. His gaze was flying through the room as if scanning it but when he came to a stop in front of Prussia it was directed at him alone.

“Are you well?” Germany asked, tilting his head. Prussia’s smile faded only slightly. He raised his brows. “Maybe a bit tired. Why?”

Germany didn’t answer. Instead, he raised a hand to let it rest against Prussia’s forehead, brows drawn together, still, and Prussia tried not to tense up beneath the touch. The fingers were warm, if calloused from doing push-ups, and they didn’t leave his skin even though it must be obvious he didn’t have a fever. They wandered to his cheek, to his chin, the knuckles digging into his skin just above his Adam’s apple as Germany’s thumb followed the line of his jaw. Prussia didn’t dare to breathe, captured, suppressing the urge to gulp down.

Something made him look into Germany’s eyes and Germany was looking back and the silence stretched on and his skin was itching and tingling and he couldn’t say if it was the right decision to... do what exactly? Was there an answer in his eyes? One he couldn’t even comprehend himself, intended only for others to discover?

Whatever it was, it made Germany lose his frown, it made him lean forward, their foreheads touching first, a gentle assurance of friendship between comrades, a mockery, as their lips met next. Germany pulled his hand back and yet Prussia kept struggling for breath. Why was it such a surprise when it shouldn’t have come as one?

He returned the kiss because that was what he needed to do to keep up the pretence, because those lips were soft against his, because his body was welcoming them, and flames began to roar inside him. Germany’s eyes were closed but Prussia couldn’t help but see, glimpses of pale cheeks painted pink, of strands of blond hair threatening to break loose. There were soft gasps, the sound of rustling layers of clothes. He could feel his face heat up because he knew what he was doing and he knew there were a thousand reasons not to do it. He knew and yet something inside him jumped at the opportunity as if it had only waited for this moment to happen. It was exciting in the way the first taste of beer was when you were way below the legal age.

Somewhere on their way to his bedroom Prussia’s rational thoughts decided to hide beyond the borders of his mind, or maybe they had never been there in the first place, who knew? Maybe what he thought of as rationality was madness instead. How else could he explain his behaviour?

Still, at this point there was no room for thoughts of any kind. They were only hands touching his body that weren’t his, teeth sucking in his bottom lip, biting in a way that made his legs go weak, that made him want to reach out, to press closer. He didn’t feel tired anymore but full of energy, an energy like laughter in his mind. His blood was rushing through his veins and there were voices in his heart that weren’t his, strength in his muscles that wasn’t human by any means. There was power, burning, dangerous like an open fire, and yet so very beautiful. Intoxicating. How could he not let go and rejoice in it?

“I love you,” Germany whispered in between kisses, voice husky and low, and Prussia couldn’t quite focus on the words, couldn’t quite lose those annoyingly numerous layers of clothes quickly enough. Still, some part of him must have heard them nevertheless, must have pulled them into the deepest parts of his memory because they were circling through his mind soon enough, over and over again.

“I need you,” a mattress against his back, a bare chest in front of him, muscles jumping with every movement, “I want you by my side… you’re the only one I’ll ever want, Prussia…”

Germany’s voice wasn’t loud, of course not. It was hesitant but honest and filled with suppressed passion, one Prussia didn’t know from him, and yet it felt right. It was everything he had ever wanted. There were sparks, a tingling wave of warmth running through his abdomen, and he couldn’t help but grin, couldn’t help but yearn for more.

Germany was kissing his chest, trailing the line to his belly button with his lips, and Prussia wasn’t supposed to stop him, didn’t want to do it, not really, but there was a rush of energy.

When he grasped Germany’s shoulders with trembling hands, when he pulled him close and into a hug, there were tears in the corners of his eyes mingling with the sweat of his body. He pressed his slightly opened lips against the spot just beneath Germany’s earlobe, almost crushing his own nose in his eagerness to press himself closer. His heart seemed to jump right out of his ribcage.

“T-thank you…,” Prussia mumbled before he could stop himself, the words muffled and incomprehensible. He couldn’t even say what he was grateful for. He hadn’t expected such a rush of emotions and yet there he was, trying to fly through a hurricane. It was scary.

Germany placed a kiss on the blade of his shoulder and a pleasant shiver ran down his back. They stayed like that, frozen, until they moved, until there was a hand nudging Prussia’s stomach just enough to make him lean backward. Prussia closed his eyes, didn’t want to see, or didn’t allow himself to see, when the hand went even lower, past the edge of his briefs.

He leaned in to kiss, because it was helping him drown, because it felt good, far too good, and he managed to ignore the gasps that sounded too much like him when Germany’s fingers curled around his erection.

“Yeah… yes,” he breathed against familiar lips, shivering with heat. “Go on.”

Prussia could feel Germany smile, could feel it in the kiss they shared, and he couldn’t help but moan when Germany began to stroke him. They must have done this a thousand times already, because how else could he know just the right pace, the right way to touch and press and curl his fingers? It wasn’t fair but it felt good and Prussia couldn’t have cared less. It wasn’t long before he came with a strangled gasp, a shuddering and panting mess, heat coiling in his stomach and exploding, leaving him even more tired than he was before.

Eyes closed, blind, he could only feel Germany kissing him. Though, there was a soft, low voice as well, whispering affectionate words into his ear, and there was warmth inside him, not yet transforming into ice, and he smiled despite himself.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Congress of Vienna**
> 
> _The ‘long 19th century’ was a period of relative peace that began arguably with the Congress of Vienna in September 1814 and lasted until the outbreak of the First World War in July 1914.  
>  Emperor Napoleon was defeated in May 1814 and Cossacks marched along the Champs-Elysées into Paris. The victorious Great Powers (Russia, Great Britain, Austria and Prussia) invited the other states of Europe to send plenipotentiaries to Vienna for a peace conference. At the end of the summer, emperors, kings, princes, ministers and representatives converged on the Austrian capital, crowding the walled city. The first priority of the Congress of Vienna was to deal with territorial issues: a new configuration of German states, the reorganisation of central Europe, the borders of central Italy and territorial transfers in Scandinavia._
> 
> (If you want to know more about it, you can look [here](https://www.historytoday.com/archive/what-was-congress-vienna).)


	5. A Melting Candle

**Chapter 4: A Melting Candle**

**~**

Prussia’s eyes shot open as a claw drove inside his head, jolting him awake. Pain spiralled through his body, a lightning behind his temples. Gasping, he looked around, blinking frantically as darkness engulfed him. He tried to draw breath but there was no oxygen to be found and he was gasping like a fish out of water. He couldn’t breathe until he could and the change took place in less than the blink of an eye. There was nothing reaching for him, his headache gone. It was already barely more than a memory.

When he ran his hand over his cheek, the bridge of his nose, it was sweaty, the skin cold. Taking a few deep, shuddering breaths, he managed to calm himself down. Everything was fine. There was nothing to fear, no sudden attack, no secret enemy. He was still lying in bed. Though, he had managed to push off most of the blankets, his naked chest open and freezing. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he could see the outlines of Germany’s body next to him. His breathing was regular, almost peaceful, oddly reminiscent of other times.

He was sleeping, rightfully so. Prussia couldn’t see a clock but judging from the dark blue of the sky beyond the windows, it couldn’t be later than 6 am. 

He frowned, placing a finger against his forehead, circling it a few times. There were no wounds, no bruises. It didn’t hurt anymore, there wasn’t even a soft echo of fading pain. Prussia sighed, hand falling to the cushions.

 _A nightmare_ , he decided. What else could it have been?

Still, as plausible as this answer was, he couldn’t help but feel an itch, a restless nervousness. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. As he pushed off the last bits of the blanket, his gaze found Germany again, the slightly dishevelled blond hair, almost white in the dim light of the moon. There were images rushing through his mind, moonlight just like this weaving its way through leaves and branches, a fire behind trees, laughter, joy, and drunk singing in the distance. A kiss in the shadows. Victory.

As soon as the images had appeared they were gone, leaving him with blurs of feelings he couldn’t recognise. Nostalgia, maybe? Prussia frowned. Oddly enough, his heart had begun to pick up its pace again. A shiver ran through him and he gulped, averting his gaze. He needed to leave this room. Pushing himself off the mattress, he hurried to get himself something to wear.

Memories from the day before ran through his mind. England. How was he doing? Germany had transferred him to a cell close to their mansion, hadn’t he?

Prussia grimaced. He had promised England to help him but it didn’t seem as if his efforts had been particularly fruitful. Even worse, he had told Germany England would prove his loyalty to them. What now? Making him do something too easy like signing a contract would be suspicious but he couldn’t make him do anything worse, things he didn’t even want to think about, could he?

Ideas spinning through his mind, each worse than the other, he crossed the room, only stopping at the threshold of the door. Pausing. Why was his gaze drawn to Germany again? Why did he feel torn, itching to both leave and stay? Why had he returned that kiss last night? Why hadn’t he tried to think of an excuse? Why had he enjoyed it, all of it?

Germany’s calm breathing was loud in the quiet of the room and Prussia considered waking him up, asking him for information on England’s current location. Asking him for help because he didn’t feel as if he could do this alone. He knew it was only wishful thinking. His Germany, his real brother, he might have been able to help… this Germany was his enemy.

Prussia clenched his teeth, angry with himself. He mustn’t forget this. He had come too close already. He couldn’t let himself stray away from what should be his only and most important goal: getting England and himself back to their own reality.

When he stepped into the hallway, he might have used too much strength to pull the door shut behind him. Without thinking, he walked away from the room, reaching for the odd, phone-like device that shouldn’t even exist. He pushed the right buttons and pressed it against his ear, and a part of him wondered when he had learned how to do that.

“Mr Prussia, Sir? Is there anything we need to know?” the gruff voice of the general said and Prussia couldn’t have been more surprised. He glimpsed at his hand, its fingers, as if they weren’t part of his body. He knew he had made the movements necessary to call the general and he felt as if he knew how to do it, too. What he didn’t know was how that knowledge had reached his brain. He couldn’t remember if Germany had explained it to him, but he must have, right? It couldn’t have appeared out of thin air.

Prussia cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m calling because of the prisoner. England. I need to see him. I… I want you to get him to me. Now.”

~

The wind was sharp as he kept walking up and down the path leading to the mansion, looking into the darkness of the night with cautious eyes. It didn’t look too different from when he had arrived the evening before and the same uneasiness was twisting his stomach, now maybe even more.

His gaze was drawn to the gates more often than not, only waiting for the headlights of a car to appear. With every passing minute he became more restless, his pace quicker, his pulse rushing through his ears. Whenever he looked up at the dark windows of the mansion he expected lamps to light up, echoing steps, a certain someone to open the door and ask for him. What if Germany woke up before England would get here?

Prussia bit his lips, trying not to groan. He needed to talk to England, he didn’t want to be forced to make something up in the last possible second again. Who knew if he would get away with it a second time?

It was just when he considered walking back inside, his teeth clattering, his feet no more than blocks of ice in his boots, that the sound of a rumbling engine drew closer. Prussia stiffened. He spent the time the black van needed to pass the gates trying to lock up his emotions. He mustn’t raise any suspicion.

In the end, he realised he shouldn’t have worried at all. The soldiers, a middle-aged officer and three baby-faced men straight from high school, didn’t look very happy about their assigned order, their answers short, their questions almost non-existent. Maybe they could have imagined better ways to spend the early morning hours. Maybe they disliked him for his pretentious home and the rumours they had undoubtedly heard about him.

They were respectful and careful, of course, but there was something about their demeanour, the bored gazes, a yawn every now and then, the crossed arms, that let Prussia know they didn’t even have the slightest inkling of what they were part of. Of the importance of the prisoner, of Prussia himself. It was a blessing. He could smile a secretive smile and thank them for their services. When the officer asked if he needed men to watch the prisoner, he politely declined and sent them on their way. It was almost too easy.

England didn’t look at him when he was led out of the back of the van, his head lowered. The cuffs around his hands and ankles made him struggle with every step and forced him to move agonisingly slowly. Prussia didn’t dare to support him. He had to clench his hands to keep up the pretence when England stumbled over a few stones, when he wavered like a ship in the sea until he managed to regain his balance. Someone laughed but Prussia could only taste iron.

If possible, England looked even worse than before even though there were no new cuts or bruises, as far as Prussia could tell. However, he didn’t look as if he had slept at all in the last hours, his movements sluggish and shaky, the shadows beneath his eyes prominent even next to the discoloured skin. The swelling of his cheek made his face look oddly disproportional.

Prussia winced. He had to avert his gaze, or else his guilt and misery might become too visible to hide. He straightened his back and narrowed his eyes at the soldiers as they got back into the car. The keys to England’s cuffs were heavier as they should have been as he clutched them in his hands.

He forced himself not to look at England as he watched the gates open once more, as he watched them close not too much later. A part of him considered opening the cuffs and letting England go, smuggling him past the fences, and making up a lie involving a dramatic escape and an unfortunate chase. It could work. They were alone, the closest people able to endanger this plan were the two soldiers guarding the gates and Germany, who should still be asleep by all means. Prussia knew it might be the only solution that didn’t involve more pain for England. Though, wasn’t it too risky? Wasn’t it highly probable there were more soldiers circling the mansion now that England was here, sent by the general after his orders? Wasn’t it more important to stay together, so they could help each other, come up with a plan to return to their reality?

Prussia sighed and turned around. England’s gaze out of heavy-lidded eyes was focused on the keys in Prussia’s hands. He made no move to get them, though. Maybe he had come to the same conclusion as Prussia because he closed his eyes, a shiver running through him.

“I… I’m thinking about throwing my hands around your throat to strangle you. Maybe break your neck…” England’s voice wasn’t loud but it was surprisingly firm, given the circumstances. Prussia looked at him.

“You wouldn’t do it,” he whispered.

“Yeah…” England snorted weakly. “But I’m thinking about it…”

He shook his head, tousled strands of dark blond hair hiding his gaze. “I can’t believe Germany bought that bullshit story of yours. I can assure you… I didn’t harbour anything more than ill feelings towards you in 1814.”

Prussia’s face heated up, if out of anger or embarrassment he couldn’t say. Walking up to England, he opened his mouth to defend himself, only to pause. He crossed his arms. _Not helpful_ , he thought, jaw working. He had to focus on what needed to be said. He couldn’t say how much time they had left but if they spent it arguing again they might as well just wake up Germany themselves.

“Well, we still got enough problems to solve without that tiny detail…,” he muttered, before letting out a low sigh. “Look, I’m going to unlock those cuffs, we get you something to drink and discuss this in a… productive, quick way. Preferably before Germany’s getting us both acquainted with the barrel of a gun.”

England exhaled slowly, then opened his palms for Prussia to get better access. “All right.”

Turning the key, Prussia could see the reddened flesh where the metal had chafed against England’s skin, sometimes enough to draw blood. How long had he been forced to wear those cuffs? Prussia felt a rush of nausea, his fingers only twitching but yearning to shake. _My fault_ , he couldn’t help but think. _This is all my fault and I’m making it worse by the minute_.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled when the cuffs came loose, his heart as heavy as stones. Not caring about keeping this horrible uniform clean, he sat down on his knees to open the second pair of cuffs. “I know I’ve messed up.”

England’s snort was enough to show how much he agreed, no words necessary. Still, Prussia could have understood if he had decided to yell at him, punch him even. He would have deserved it.

When Prussia was able to look into his face again, there was a grimace of pain even though England was trying to hide it, his jaw tense as he stretched his fingers and shook his hands a few times. He straightened his back and took a few hesitant steps. After four or five he faltered and had to stop, only barely avoiding falling face first on the gravel.

Prussia hurried after him. “Do you… need any help?”

“I’m fine!” England snapped and Prussia winced. He didn’t ask again even though he did follow England’s every movement with his eyes, ready to step in if necessary. When they crossed the threshold, Prussia held his breath listening for steps that didn’t appear. Still, he couldn’t help but be tense as he motioned to England to follow him to the dining room.

Inside, he closed the door behind them as quietly as he could even though he wanted nothing more than to slam it shut and go on with their much needed conversation. Still, he couldn’t risk drawing attention to them.

“Sit down,” he whispered to England. He placed the loosened cuffs and their keys on one of the chairs before walking toward the kitchen door. “I’m back in a second.”

Carefully, he opened the door. And froze. In hindsight he should have expected this but with England and Germany already making his mind spin, there hadn’t been room to consider even more problems.

It wasn’t late enough for Germany to be awake but it wasn’t early enough for Belgium to still be asleep, either. As soon as the door cracked open, she turned her head at the noise, looking at him out of wide, reddened eyes. The sleeves of her dress were rolled up and a white apron was hiding most of her outfit, fastened by a bow behind her back. Her face looked even more pale beneath the ceiling lamp drowning the room in dim light. Her hands were raised, stained with specks of white, hovering just above a mass of dough. Future bread perhaps?

She didn’t say anything, only stared, and Prussia hurried to speak, not wanting to repeat the disaster from the morning before.

“Don’t worry.” He showed her a weak smile. “I didn’t want to disturb you… I… I just want to get a glass of water… m-maybe a wet cloth as well. Ice to cool.”

His gaze ran over counters made of light wood and stone tops and similar shelves filled with labelled boxes, dishes and cutlery, pots and pans, spices and herbs, until he found what he had been looking for. Before Belgium could even think about taking his words as an order, he ran across the room, dodged the fridge, and grabbed a glass out of an open cupboard.

“Just… eh, just ignore me… a-and continue with whatever it is you’re doing,” he added while filling the glass with tap water, his neck tingling. He bit his lip before his loose mouth could make this situation even more uncomfortable, foot tapping against the blue patterned tiles of the floor. How the hell could he have forgotten Belgium?

When Prussia turned around, quickly enough to make a few drops of water flee the glass and splatter on his hand, Belgium was standing in front of him. She silently handed him a dotted kitchen towel filled with what felt like a decent amount of ice cubes. Prussia didn’t manage to meet her eyes, his throat constricted. He gulped.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and fled the room. He could feel Belgium’s gaze burning holes into his back even after he had pushed the door shut.

England was looking at him out of narrowed eyes as he approached the table. His hands were clasped upon its surface, his form slumped upon the chair. If it weren’t for his blinking, he could have passed off as a statue.

Though, as soon as Prussia placed the glass on the table, England reached for it and drowned it with a few long gulps. Prussia sat down next to him waiting for him to finish before he offered him the cold pack. “For your cheek.”

England didn’t lose his glare but he did take the towel pressing it against the swelling, sighing. His eye lids were fluttering as if he had trouble keeping them open, his face just as pale as Belgium’s had been. Maybe it really was only his stubbornness keeping him awake.

“Who… who’s in there?” England asked, voice muffled. He nodded towards the kitchen, a worrying expression twisting the parts of his face that were visible. Prussia took a deep breath, considering, thinking, discarding the idea. No time. He shook his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It isn’t important right now. We… we have other things to discuss.” He looked out of the windows, his stomach twisting in horrible anticipation. Was he imagining things or had the sky’s blue already gotten even lighter? “Germany could be here any minute now and we… I need to know what to tell him.”

England furrowed his brows, his gaze distant. The hand lying on the table’s surface was trembling, its wrist redlined with the mockery of a bracelet. He sighed. “Prussia, first tell me… I’ve been thinking about it all night… how… how did you know?”

“What?” Prussia frowned, then snorted. “You’re not confessing your love, are you?”

“Of course not, git.” England shot a glare at him. Noting Prussia’s confusion, it dissolved into a puzzled expression. “You don’t know. You really don’t know…”

“Don’t waste our time, spit it out,” Prussia muttered, narrowing his eyes. A bitter smile was dancing in the corners of England’s mouth.

“I don’t know whether to call it good or bad luck but… we’ll have work with what we got.” Their gazes crossed. “I guess you simply used the first idea which came to your mind but… well, you were right. Russia’s trying to contact me.”

“You’re joking,” Prussia mumbled, his grin tense, faltering. He searched England’s face for signs of a lie, trembling lips, a jumping gaze maybe. Though, either England had a really good poker face, which he usually didn’t have, or he was telling the truth. “Damn… are you sure? Germany’s pretty certain he’s disappeared. Perhaps you’ve made a mistake… misinterpreted something, I dunno…”

England’s expression darkened. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “There was a dove at my window in London. It was wearing a ring with a message. I know Russia’s handwriting. It was him. Considering your Emperor doesn’t seem to know about it, I’d say it’s real.”

“What did he write? Can I see it? Did you take the note with you?”

“Do I look like an idiot to you?” England rolled his eyes. “What do you think your soldiers would’ve done to me if they’d found it? No, I didn’t take it with me. I burned it.”

Prussia crossed his arms. He raised a brow. “Well, what did he write then?”

England didn’t answer immediately. He pursed his lips absentmindedly, lowered his head and sighed. “It doesn’t make that much sense… _611.2_ _Augustus watches the first sun set at midnight_ … either he’s trying to tell me something or he’s gone crazy… maybe if I were from this reality I’d get it. He wants to meet me, that much I can guess…”

He looked up, his eyes full of scorn. “I didn’t think much of it because I was busy getting to you to leave this horrible place! Why… why should I care about Russia if I didn’t want to be here in the first place? He’s helped the most if we re-establish our reality.”

“Still, you could’ve used the information to bargain. If it doesn’t make sense, who cares?” Prussia shook his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell Germany about it? Fuck, you could’ve already told the soldiers and avoided getting beaten up.”

England froze, a shadow rushing through his gaze. “I… I don’t know,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to. They don’t deserve to know. I’m not…”

He only mouthed the last words but Prussia could hear them ringing through his mind as if he had yelled them. _A traitor_. His stomach lurched. When England looked at him there was something trembling in the depths of his eyes, a silent plea.

“Germany mustn’t know about this. Promise me you won’t tell him about it, Prussia. This Germany… he’s dangerous.”

“You’d get yourself tortured… or worse… because of… what? Your honour?” Prussia bit back the urge to laugh because it couldn’t be happy. Though, the longer England’s words were dancing through his mind the heavier they became, pressing him down as if they were a chain around his neck. Suffocating him. He cleared his throat and still felt breathless, an icy shiver running down his back. Would he betray Germany to get back to their reality?

“Forget it,” he ground out, the grin lost. “It’s fine, I won’t tell him. Maybe you’re right. Maybe Russia isn’t important.”

He sighed shakily, rubbed the cold sweat out of his face. “Please tell me you’ve an idea how to get back.”

England drew his brows together. “It… depends…”

Prussia didn’t get to know on what it depended. The sound of approaching steps drowned out any word England might have uttered. They were already too loud, too close, and the knowledge made his blood burn like acid. There was no time to do anything more than share a look of horror with England before the door to the entry hall opened. The wood crackled like laughter.

~


	6. Entering The Stage

**Chapter 5: Entering The Stage**

**~**

“Prussia? I heard voices and-“

Prussia could pinpoint the exact moment Germany noticed England. He could see his body tense up, the muscles working beneath the sleeveless, black top he was wearing. His voice, at first pleasant, died away as if someone had cut out his vocal cords, his expression growing dark. His fingers were twitching, clenching into fists.

Prussia gulped. He wanted to cry. Couldn’t Germany have waited half an hour, maybe even only ten minutes before storming into the dining room? Still, there was nothing to be done. Slowly approaching his brother, he forced himself to smile.

“I… I’m glad you’re awake,” he claimed. “I didn’t want to wake you, you know. You always work so hard… you needed some rest.”

Germany’s glance grazed him, wandered away from him as if he weren’t even there. He focused on England. Something flickered through his face, an exploding star, and he reached for a gun Prussia hadn’t noticed before. With long, quick steps he crossed the room until there was only the table separating them, aiming the Luger at England’s forehead. There was no hesitation, no doubt. His grip was firm and without shaking, the movements as fluent as if he had planned them long before.

“Get up,” he growled. “I want to see your hands.”

Adrenaline drove through Prussia like glowing nails, panic fighting against rationality and threatening to pull him beneath the water’s surface. He had been nervous before but seeing Germany with a weapon, moving as if he had already decided the outcome of this situation, made him feel as if time wasn’t trickling away but racing, fleeing. He knew there would be nothing he could do. He knew Germany was a good shot, he had trained him himself.

England was surprisingly composed as he followed Germany’s orders. He wasn’t shaking. The only signs of his discomfort were his lips, tightly pressed together, and his white face which made the bruises even more apparent. He raised his hands above his head and met Germany’s angry glare without flinching. The remaining ice cubes in the kitchen towel were melting on the carpet.

“Fucking calm down!” Prussia yelled. Heart stuttering in his chest, he hurried to cross the distance between them.

“What’s the meaning of this, Prussia?” Germany asked without looking at him, his body rigid and unyielding. Almost unnoticeably, his finger curled around the trigger. He didn’t look as if he wanted to know the answer and Prussia wondered if there even was an answer he could give. Still, he had to try.

Similar to the morning before he stepped in front of Germany, only now there was a gun between them, its barrel close enough to touch his chest. Prussia took a shuddering breath, coldness washing through him.

He knew he wouldn’t die, even if a bullet went through his heart, but the pain would be intense enough to black out from, a sensation like being stabbed with a burning stake, its flames reaching for his flesh and eating their way through his body. He wouldn’t be able to breathe without his heart to transport the oxygen through his blood. Though, not being able to die, he would be suffocating alive, then losing his consciousness in a maddening circle until his heart had reformed. He had gone through it more times than he liked to remember and he had no wish to repeat it. Still, better him than the already injured England.

“You don’t want to shoot me,” he muttered, catching Germany’s gaze. Holding it, looking for conflict, doubt. He licked his lips. “Do you?”

There was a frightening moment in which Prussia, despite his own words, was only waiting for the sound of a shot to echo through the hall. However, Germany let out a low groan before lowering the Luger with a tortured expression in his eyes, face twisted into a grimace. He made a step backward.

“Explain yourself.”

Relief flooded him and Prussia wanted to laugh, his legs almost too weak to hold him. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to close his eyes until he had gathered his thoughts.

“You want England to prove his loyalty to us, don’t you?” Prussia grinned even though his thoughts were running wild and he had no idea how this conversation would end. Desperation clang to him like dirt he couldn’t rub off and it would have been hard to focus even if he had known what to say. Why did he always end up in this kind of situation? He sighed inaudibly. “Well… I’ve found a way… which is why I brought him here. I didn’t want to wait… time can be a valuable weapon.”

Germany gave a short nod. “Go on. How’s he going to prove himself?”

Prussia gulped. His gaze flickered through the room, looking for a solution he knew he wouldn’t be able to find. His pulse jumped as it picked up speed, his panic awakening once more, rising and raging like a bush fire. It was a coincidence when his eyes met the kitchen door just as it opened. He didn’t know why he spoke because it should have been a thought, really, because he had no reason to say her name when she was too far away to listen.

“Belgium.”

She couldn’t have heard him but she turned her head, nevertheless, her fair hair tidily brushed, the blue ribbon like a cornflower crown on her head. It was only a name and yet Germany’s expression changed as if he had told a whole story.

England was looking at Belgium as well, his shock apparent in the way his jaw was tensing. He was still holding up his hands, though as Prussia focused on them, he could see his fingers quiver.

“England,” Germany called, just barely smiling. “You haven’t seen her in a while, have you? I remember you were quite protective of her once.”

That was when Prussia knew this situation wasn’t going into the direction it should go at all. He froze, unable to speak. He couldn’t help but feel as if he had made a terrible mistake.

Belgium stopped just a few metres away from the door, a wary frown grazing the soft lines of her face. Her eyes jumped between England, Germany, and him without really focusing on them. Her hands began to clench the basket with bread she was holding, her knuckles white.

“England, answer me, are you still fond of her?”

_Don’t say anything!_ Prussia wanted to yell even though he knew it wasn’t possible. The storm had already begun and they could only try to withstand it.

“I d-don’t…” England cleared his throat, the emotions leaving his face as if whisked away. “I don’t feel anything for her. May I lower my hands now?”

Germany raised a brow. “So you decided to talk to me again?”

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t.” England straightened his back. He didn’t lower his hands but balled fists as their shaking increased, his muscles visibly fatigued. “After all, communication is important to build trust… I… I see why I shouldn’t deserve yours. Still, I’ll do what is necessary to earn it. I… deeply regret not making this choice long ago.”

Germany took his time to reply. However, Prussia couldn’t say if it was because he genuinely didn’t know what to say or if he found satisfaction in letting England wait like a goose watching the grill it might soon be roasted upon. Unable to decipher his empty expression he could only hope it was the first option.

“What makes you think I’ll ever trust you? Are you ready to rot in a cell, chained against the wall, endlessly waiting for a day that might never come?” Germany’s voice was cold, its lack of humanity terrifying. It didn’t sound like him.

“Belgium, don’t leave,” Germany added without turning his head away from England. Prussia hadn’t noticed her small steps backward but when he glanced at her, he realised she was standing with her back against the door, frozen like a rabbit looking at a snake. He also hadn’t noticed that he himself had slowly backed away from his brother, just a metre or two but noticeably enough. As if a part of him didn’t want to be standing close to him.

“I… I’ll do what is necessary,” England repeated hoarsely.

Prussia briefly entertained the idea to wrestle Germany down or to use his own gun on him, then tying him up to give them time to escape. His hand wandered to the holster at his hip, almost feeling the weight in his palm already. It would be three against one. Even considering England and Belgium were hurt, there was no way Germany would be able to win. If they got his gun, their chances would be even better.

However, as soon as the idea ran through his mind, Prussia had to discard it. Who knew how long they would be stuck here? And who said they would even be able to flee? There were soldiers at the gate, soldiers guarding the fields and woods surrounding the mansion as well, and they weren’t even close to the borders. There was no way they would be able to leave the German Empire. There were no nations they could ask for help, no countries to seek refuge in. They couldn’t allow themselves to run away if it would only lead to disastrous consequences and even more problems.

That meant they needed Germany on their side.

“Prussia, give me your gun,” his brother said. The words were so unexpected, Prussia couldn’t believe his ears. It was only when Germany began to stare at him, reaching out a hand, that Prussia realised what he had said. His blood grew cold. At first he thought Germany was able to read his mind and wouldn’t that be just great?

However, Germany’s gaze wasn’t that of a furious man accusing him of treason. There even was a flicker of warmth, trust he wasn’t ready to give anyone else, and maybe that was what was making him believe Prussia would trust him as well, would trust him enough to give him his gun without further questions. That or he was testing him.

When Prussia looked at his hand, he could see his drawn gun, his subconsciousness having already decided to follow Germany’s instruction. A wave of nausea made him gulp, the Luger’s metal cold to the touch. He knew he shouldn’t give it away. He didn’t have a second gun here. He would be defenceless. Why was Germany even asking for it?

Prussia sighed. He didn’t want to know the answer, did he? He had wasted enough time already. Forcing his mind into a calmer space, he looked up and offered Germany his weapon.

His brother gave him a small smile as he reached for it and the tilt of his head made his eyes as dark as the fading night. That was when the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Prussia froze, wishing to stop him and yet unable to do so if he wanted to keep his head. Germany placed the Luger on the dining table and gave it a slight push, making it spin toward the other side. Toward England. He nodded at him.

“Take it,” he ordered, aiming his own gun at his head once more.

Narrowing his eyes, England lowered his hands and allowed himself to stretch his arms once or twice, all the while not daring to look away from Germany. Even as he hesitantly grasped the gun, almost letting it slip through his fingers, his eyes were still following Germany, wary confusion lingering in its depths. Perhaps he was moving that slowly because he didn’t want to confront what was awaiting him. Perhaps he was waiting for Germany to laugh, to shake his head and to declare this was all a big joke. Prussia knew what his brother would say next but it didn’t make it hurt less.

“I want you to shoot her.”

Belgium gasped. The basket fell from her hands to the floor. The bread scattered around her feet but nobody made a move to collect it. Shock twisting her face, she looked as if she wanted to run, her fingers clutching the fabric of her dress. Though, she didn’t move, only breathed in and out with shuddering sobs, her shoulders slumping and her eyes closing as she pressed herself against the kitchen door. As she resigned herself to her fate.

Prussia wondered how horribly they must have treated her if she didn’t even try to argue against getting freaking shot. _Maybe she deserves it_ , a part of him thought, and that was even more horrible. _She’d heal, wouldn’t she?_

He felt sick, his throat itching with the urge to gag as he forced those thoughts out of his mind. When he looked up, still dizzy, England was glimpsing at him before focusing on Belgium again. It made him feel even worse. This was his fault and yet it was England who had to pay for it. There was no way he could help him, not with Germany observing his every move and only waiting for him to slip.

“Where?” England spat the word out as if it were an insult. The hand tentatively raising the gun was trembling.

“Your choice,” Germany said shrugging. “You see, you don’t have to do it. Please don’t misjudge my intentions. Do try to ignore me…”

He pointed at his own Luger, as calm as if they were talking about buying groceries.

“This is only for making sure you don’t use that gun against me and Prussia gets his property back as it was before, nothing more. I’d understand if you didn’t want to hurt her. It would only be natural. I wouldn’t think less of you.”

_Yeah, you’d only put him in a cell and starve him_ , Prussia thought, narrowing his eyes. He clenched his hands but he knew there was nothing he could do, as much as he hated to admit it. If he said as much as an intervening word Germany would know for certain he had never intended to use Belgium and had been bluffing all along.

His heart jumped inside his ribcage as his eyes flickered to England, the only person who might be able to help him out of this mess. Was it mean to wish he wouldn’t get himself incarcerated? After all, if Germany couldn’t trust Prussia’s promises about England’s loyalty, why should he trust him in the first place?

When England groaned, the doubt melting from his face, utter helplessness flashing through his eyes before they turned cold and motionless, when he pointed the gun and pulled the trigger, Prussia couldn’t help but feel relief.

Belgium groaned when the bullet hit her, her eyes fluttering without opening entirely. Tears were streaming down her face, her body shaking in a way that didn’t allow a close look. When she coughed, the spittle running down her chin was pink like coral beads. Prussia couldn’t say what part of her body England had been aiming at but there was a sea of darkness just above her stomach, the blue dress ruined. A shudder ran through her body, her lips moving without saying anything, before she crumbled together like a puppet without strings.

Germany’s eyes were wide, traces of emotions let loose, a lack of control which hadn’t been there before. Prussia allowed himself a grim smile.

When England turned around to face them and placed the gun back on the table, his expression was empty. He raised a brow. “Satisfied? I told you… she doesn’t matter to me.”

Maybe he was a better actor than Prussia gave him credit for after all.

“All right,” Germany muttered, his anger barely concealed.

_You wanted him to fail, didn’t you?_ Prussia realised. He cursed under his breath. If Germany couldn’t get past his suspicions and dislike for England, it would complicate matters. England had told him it was only a question of time until they had forgotten their past selves and he couldn’t let it come to that. He could already feel himself slipping away, slowly but steadily, like a rose losing its petals.

After taking his gun from the table, he walked up to his brother to place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension of his muscles. His skin was surprisingly warm.

“See?” Prussia whispered leaning just a bit closer. “He’s on our side. You don’t have to trust him… just let him think you do. We can use this to our advantage.”

Germany turned his head slightly, just enough to let their eyes meet, and something ran through Prussia’s body, a tingling sensation, an itch to lean forward, to kiss those lips which were only waiting for him to graze with his own. The feeling was so strong, Prussia had to tighten his grip on Germany’s shoulder, had to force himself to look away. Only after he had made a step backward did he allow himself to breathe again.

Germany looked at England, eyes roaming over his battered form, before he made a sound that was both sigh and groan.

“There’s a guest room in the right wing of the mansion,” he said. “You’ll be locked up during the night and whenever it’s necessary. If you leave the room, it’s with either Prussia or me. I’m sure you understand these are precautions we have to take.”

England nodded. “Of course.”

“Follow me then,” Germany turned his back on him to walk to the door without waiting for a reaction, only stopping at the threshold, one foot just outside of the door.

“Prussia?” he asked, his head only turned far enough to look at him. England, who had been walking after him, stopped and crossed his arms. The lines of his face were tense like a rope threatening to rip apart. How long until he would lose his mask?

Shifting his gaze back to his brother, Prussia shook his head. “Give me a few minutes… I… clean up first.”

Germany didn’t reply, merely turning back and continuing his way. It was only after England had left the room as well and the door had fallen shut that Prussia dared to move.

He almost stumbled over his own feet in his hurry to cross the room, his heart a broken record. Halfway through it, he turned around to grab the kitchen towel from the carpet, its fabric wet from the molten ice. When he sat down in front of Belgium, England’s conflicted gaze came to his mind, the shot still ringing in his ears, and he swallowed hard. It shouldn’t have come to this.

“Belgium,” he whispered, pressing a palm against the carpet to steady himself.

Belgium’s eyelids moved. They didn’t open entirely but were fluttering until she settled on leaving them ajar. Her lips, snow-white with specks of red, trembled as she tilted her head, her face a tired, pain-stricken grimace. She didn’t move any other limb, her arms and legs like stone against the door and floor, and Prussia wondered if it was because she didn’t want to or if she simply couldn’t do it.

“W-why…,” she managed to murmur, her voice barely louder than the memory of wind. Prussia couldn’t say if she even recognised him but his heart twisted, nonetheless. Why had he thought of her as useless? As someone who deserved the pain that was thrown at them? His jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, wiping the cold sweat off his brow.

“You didn’t deserve this,” he added, if only to convince himself. He took a look at where the bullet had torn through the fabric, the bloody stain even bigger than before, a sea to swallow her. Her right hand was lying close to it, the tips of her fingers glaringly red as if she had tried to press them against the wound.

There was a wave of helplessness rushing through him. He wasn’t a doctor. What was he even doing here? Trying to clear his consciousness? Yeah, good luck with that.

Belgium’s eyes had fallen shut again, her breathing even more shallow now, almost inaudible. Coldness reached through Prussia’s body with beastly claws. His eyes went wide. She couldn’t die. Or could she? What if her people were too weak to sustain her body, to heal her? What if she were to follow Luxembourg’s fate?

With shaking hands Prussia scrambled for the makeshift phone. He somehow managed to call for a medic without losing neither his voice nor his calm. Afterwards he gently reached behind Belgium’s body and placed a hand on the small of her back to lay her down on the carpet, hopefully giving her room to breathe and a more comfortable position thereby. There was only a quiet sob from Belgium when he first touched her, a tremor running through her body. However, he liked to imagine her breathing was steadier now. Inhaling shakily, he leaned down to make sure she would understand him. “England didn’t want to hurt you. He had to do it… he… he had no choice. Please don’t hate him. H-hate… hate me if you want to.”

He had to pause, had to swallow the lump in his throat. Slowly, he pushed himself off the floor.

“Just… just try to breathe,” he said while gathering the bread and placing it on the table. “Think of something nice, eh… sunshine and waffles a-and… beer. I don’t know.” He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “You’ve always had great beer…”

Glancing at her lifeless form, he paused, couldn’t help but feel ridiculous for saying these things, childish even. No words could help her. They were as unreachable and empty as the clouds in the sky. Frustration sparking through him, he shook his head.

“Forget it,” he ground out, already turning around to leave the room. “I’m a fool.”

She was probably better off dying anyway.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [gun](https://dygtyjqp7pi0m.cloudfront.net/i/29573/25755926_1.jpg?v=8D400F2F9823BF0) Germany is using is a toggle-locked recoil-operated semi-automatic pistol that was produced in several models and by several nations from 1898 to 1948. It is well known from its use by Germans during World War I and World War II, along with the interwar Weimar Republic and the postwar East German Volkspolizei. [[Source](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luger_pistol#:~:text=The%20Luger%20is%20well%20known%20from%20its%20use,was%20developed%2C%20also%20known%20as%20the%209%C3%9719mm%20Luger.)]


	7. Silly People

**Chapter 6: Silly People**

**~**

Prussia was in such a hurry to get to the guest room he was panting by the time he arrived, his heart a jumping mess. He didn’t let himself ponder over why he knew where to find it even though he hadn’t seen it before. Instead, he grinned as he should and let his mouth do the rest.

“Dry your tears, you don’t have to miss me anymore!” he announced while stepping over the threshold. “I hope you didn’t discuss anything important without me.”

When he looked at his brother and England, the grin fell from his face. They weren’t turning their heads but were glaring at each other, their faces tense, their expressions cold. The only difference was England was trying to hide his disgust, his shoulders slumped, his jaw less tightened, his head lowered. It was there in his eyes, though, a raging fire impossible to quench. Germany didn’t even tried to hide it.

Prussia fought away the urge to groan. He had been gone for five minutes at most and they were already ready to slit each other’s throats?

He let his eyes roam over the interior of the room and was surprised to see how expensive the furniture looked, even if there wasn’t much of it. The bed was big enough for two people to sleep in and, while not being as extravagant as his own, its blue blankets looked as clean and tidy as if they hadn’t been slept in once. Other than that, there was a small table and a chair, an ornated wardrobe big enough to fit enough clothing for a two-month-long stay, and a wooden cabinet with glass doors, making it possible to take a look at three books: _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_ , _Beneath the Wheel_ , and _Winnetou I_. At the other end of the room there was a large window, a pink orchid on its window sill. If you turned right, there was a white door leading to a small bathroom.

Germany sighed and turned around to walk up to him.

“Here’s your key,” he said. The morning sun reaching into the room made the metal look like silver as he handed it to Prussia, their fingers grazing each other, the touch just a bit too long. Prussia shivered, avoiding Germany’s eyes as he tucked the key into the pocket of his jacket.

“I’ve told England we’d talk about Russia in the evening… were there any difficulties?”

How could his voice be that monotone, bored even, after what had happened? As if it had been a morning like any other. As if he had already forgotten about its events. Or was it only a mask, created by years of experience with the darkest parts of the human soul?

“No,” Prussia stated, not intending to say anything more. Though, as Germany moved to leave the room, he felt a rush of adrenaline, an opportunity he needed to seize. There were images dancing through his mind, a talk he didn’t recognise, familiar countries who weren’t familiar anymore, a leather-bound appointment calendar, the reason why they wouldn’t interrogate England until the evening.

“Germany, could you prepare the meeting without me?” Prussia raised a brow, only now allowing himself to meet his gaze. He smiled, nodding towards England. “There’s something I need to ask him. Isn’t that important, really, but I don’t want to forget about it. I’ll catch up with you, I promise.”

Germany didn’t return his smile, instead tensing up. Something flickered through his eyes, too indistinct to read, a silhouette standing in the fog. Still, Prussia could feel his heart beat faster when his brother, instead of leaving, moved even closer to him. The small smile grazing his lips wasn’t able to make Prussia more comfortable. His neck had begun to tingle, the feeling slowly spreading through his body.

“All right,” Germany said. “If it’s important enough to warrant a conversation, you should do it. You can tell me about it later.”

Prussia lost his tension, already imagining the first questions he would need to ask England to get them closer to the solution of their problem. Maybe that was why he didn’t realise what Germany was about to do until he could feel his lips against his own, until the warmth of his body was like a flame to his skin. Stunned and dizzy, he could only widen his eyes, as a hand found its way to his cheek, to the line of his jaw, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Prussia’s mouth opened reflexively and Germany let their tongues roll against each other, sucking slightly, then pulling back to gently bite his bottom lip, the movements lazy as if he had all the time in the world and yet still too fast for Prussia to process what the heck was happening. It wasn’t the kiss itself. It was the time. It was the place. His mind couldn’t follow the movements but his body was already reacting to it, yearning for the touch as it leaned into it, heat gathering in his abdomen.

When Germany ended the kiss, it was as sudden as it had begun. Confused, Prussia couldn’t make out more than a smile when his brother left the room and him with England alone.

He brought a hand to his burning face, rubbing his cheeks, shielding his eyes, trying to hide behind his fingers. When he licked his lips, he could still taste Germany and frustration ran through him, a helplessness almost strong enough to paralyse him. Though, it couldn’t be helped. Grimacing, he braced himself and turned around to face England.

England wasn’t glaring anymore. His lips were white, pressed into a tight line, and his eyes were wide and dark, a lake at night. When he made half a step backward, a hand reaching for the back of the chair to hold onto, he didn’t seem to be aware of it.

“Oh… this is bad,” he murmured. A shudder ran through him and he straightened his back, glowering at Prussia. His hand left the chair to clench into a fist. “I didn’t even think…” A strangled groan. “You’re brothers for god’s sake!”

“It’s not like I wanted this to happen!” Prussia snapped, emotions flooding his mind like water from a broken dam. He fought away the urge to punch something. “Imagine my surprise when I woke up here and the first thing this guy does is kissing me! I’m… I’m just trying to go along with it. He doesn’t need even more reason to mistrust me.”

England snorted. A shadow ran through his gaze, something oddly similar to fear.

“Prussia, you idiot!” He shook his head, his eyes daggering him. “He loves you! I… I didn’t dare to consider it at first but… that’s why he’s behaving this way… that’s why he looks at me as if he’d love to kill me. That idea of yours has been utterly moronic in the first place but now…”

He gave a low groan, raising his hands in disbelief. “Why… why the hell did you think it was a good idea to tell your… your boyfriend I’d be in love with you?!”

Prussia paled. “I didn’t really have a choice. I… I was under pressure, I couldn’t think….”

He rubbed his face, trying not to look at England. “We… we can’t change it anyway… just… please… please let it go.”

Silence stretched across the room until England sighed. His expression grew softer. Only his brows remained furrowed, a distant shadow lurking in his gaze. His voice was quiet when he spoke, a strange contrast to the hard glances and their shouting.

“You… you don’t have… feelings… for him, do you?”

“No,” Prussia muttered, maybe a bit too quickly. He cleared his throat. “The faster we get home the better.”

England exhaled loudly. “A-all… right.”

He let himself fall into the chair as if it had taken all his energy to stand, his head lowered. “I… I need you to tell me about your wish. Where did it happen, why, what did you see, what did you do… everything you can remember.”

His eyes followed Prussia as he sat down on the mattress in front of England.

“You see, there are different kinds of magic… each would require a different solution. I need to know as much about the circumstances as possible, so I can narrow down our options.”

Prussia frowned. He didn’t want to tell England about the ridiculous way he had behaved, though he knew it was only reasonable to do so. Fingers digging into the blankets, he began to speak.

“Well… I… I had a fight with Germany, nothing major… just the usual stuff, really.” He shrugged even though his throat felt oddly constricted. “He didn’t want to go out and drink a beer with me because of his terribly important responsibilities as a country, so I… left the hotel. I forgot my purse and was just wandering around until I saw this ancient well in an alley. There was a plate. _Make a wish_ , something like that. I… well, I didn’t have anything better to do, so I threw a euro down the well and made a wish. That’s it. No thunder and lightning. I just went back to the hotel and fell asleep.”

He took a deep breath. “I woke up here.”

“That’s it?” England knitted his brows. “Didn’t you see anything else? Four-leaf clovers maybe? Fly agarics? Or did you hear a bell chiming? Laughter?”

Prussia pursed his lips, conjuring up the memories in his mind, going through them bit by bit in spite of the uncomfortable itch he felt in his neck. Was there anything he was missing? He couldn’t say. He had been angry, he had been tired, and he hadn’t thought twice about the situation, his memory was as holey as a sieve. He shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know… the alley looked ordinary enough to me. Maybe a bit outdated. There were flowers on the window sills… no idea which kind, though. The well was overgrown… and, yeah, I remember this scary-looking statue on the roof. Ugly thing. I think it was supposed to be a dog.”

England froze. “Which colour?”

Prussia looked up at him and snorted. “C’mon, don’t tell me that’s important… it was night, you can’t really make out any colours at night. Might as well have been black.”

England’s reaction wasn’t what he had expected. A shudder ran through him, his eyes blown wide as horror twisted his face.

“Prussia…,” he whispered, slowly shaking his head. “Don’t you know anything about magic and spirits and mythology at all? Haven’t you heard of Cerberus? Garmr? Black dogs are portents of death… it could have been a hellhound, perhaps a shapeshifting demon… I’d never make a wish at a well guarded by a black dog. That’s asking for something bad to happen.”

“Knock it off,” Prussia scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I already know I don’t know anything about this shit… please do teach me your ways, oh wondrous Master of the Supernatural.”

Frowning, England crossed his arms. “I was just saying you should be careful. No need to ridicule me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Anyway, it must have been very powerful to change the reality like this… I don’t know if I’m able to reverse the spell.”

“W-what?” Prussia felt his heart drop. “Don’t you dare say anything like that. We’ll just try everything… something’s bound to work, right? You… you got experience with this kind of thing, don’t you?”

England’s dark gaze didn’t quite help calming him down.

“Well, I used to have a grimoire but I destroyed it during the witch trials in the 17th century…,” he muttered. “It’s been a while since I last cast a spell… my connection to the other world isn’t as strong as it used to be…”

“Hey! It must have been strong enough to bring you here, right?” Prussia raised his brows. “Don’t give up that easily.”

England bit his bottom lip, then took a deep breath, the sound loud in the room. “All right. I want to try something.”

Shifting his weight to the front of the chair, he reached out his hands. “Here, take my hands a-and… maybe close your eyes.”

Prussia cast a glance at England’s palms, small red lines drawn all over them, another sign of his time as a prisoner, and he hurriedly shut his eyes. When he hesitantly grasped his hands, their fingers intertwining, they were soft and warm and the touch sent a tingling sensation through his body. His grip was rather loose, though, as he didn’t want to risk hurting England and didn’t dare to tighten it.

It was England who tightened the grip, his thumbs digging into Prussia’s skin as if he wanted to leave marks. Prussia frowned until he heard his voice, barely louder than the wind howling around the mansion, reciting something in a language that didn’t sound like English. Latin, maybe? Was he trying to cast a spell?

Waiting for something to happen, Prussia tensed up, his heart jumping in his chest. He had never really believed in magic but after everything that had happened he was willing to believe in a lot.

England finished speaking just when Prussia began to wonder how he was able to remember such a long text. He couldn’t help but flinch when a wave of warmth overflowed him, a feeling like walking through a waterfall or standing in the sun of a forest’s clearing. It wasn’t painful, rather the opposite actually, but it was a surprise. He opened his eyes when England pulled his hands away. He gave him a grin.

“I felt something. That’s good, right?”

There wasn’t even the trace of a smile in England’s face. He snorted in a sad, frustrated way. “We’re still here… it didn’t work. That spell was supposed to reverse whatever magic’s been worked upon us… it means this magic’s either well-hidden or powerful enough not to be reversed that easily.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Well… it was worth a try…”

“That’s the spirit!” Prussia exclaimed, refusing to lose hope. He didn’t like the way England was behaving. Like a raft in the sea, thrown around by waves, only waiting for the final push which would make it break apart. He didn’t like to see this grim expression, only worsened by those terrible bruises. He swallowed hard. “You… eh, you do have other ideas, don’t you?”

England did have other ideas. Prussia didn’t know how much time they spent trying out different spells, some of them supposed to show the origins of the magic in question, some of them supposed to weaken it. In the end, neither of them was smiling anymore.

Nothing had changed. They were still stuck in this dreadful timeline and they still didn’t have any clue how to overcome the magic tying them to it. England, ashen-faced and exhausted at the end, had been unable to detect any traces of magic inside their bodies, which was ridiculous because they couldn’t have accidentally popped up here, could they? He wouldn’t be surprised if something were hiding in the shadows, watching them with a smirk and laughing at their misery.

When Prussia left to meet Germany, already pushing the time limit he had set himself, he was hungry and angry and tired and, deep inside himself, horribly scared. He didn’t want to think about the prospect of not being able to return. Still, it became increasingly possible.

~

Germany didn’t look at him when Prussia came to a halt beside him, his gaze focused on the gates. A nearby tree threw shadows on his face, making it impossible to read his expression.

“Sorry,” Prussia muttered with a soft chuckle. “Took longer than expected.”

He adjusted the buttons of his jacket even though there was no adjustment necessary, the urge to explain himself dancing in the back of his mind. He had a feeling Germany was glancing at him, but he didn’t dare to turn his head to confirm it. Maybe his brother wasn’t about to ask what had taken him that long, maybe he was fine with him being late, though there was no way to be certain when the sound of engines drew closer. It wasn’t loud, rather soft like the purring of a kitten, even if the car’s occupants were anything but harmless as such.

When the black Mercedes-Benz was parked in front of the mansion, a woman and a man stepped out of it to approach them.

Hungary was wearing a white poodle skirt which might have looked dreamy and innocent if she hadn’t worn a tight dark sweater, multiple golden necklaces, and a slightly annoyed expression as well. Her brown hair was tied into a strict bun, a black and white scarf wrapped around it. Prussia almost didn’t recognise her. From the way she didn’t seem to care about her surroundings to the way she was tapping against the asphalt with the tip of her ankle boot, it didn’t seem to be her. It wasn’t like her to be that uninterested, emotionless even.

Austria wasn’t enthusiastic either. He was dressed in a charcoal suit and was warily eying the ground while making his steps as if fearing to step into a muddy puddle, a black hat hiding his eyes. It looked ridiculous, not even considering it hadn’t rained in the last 24 hours, and Prussia would have made a joke if he weren’t that tense. He felt even less like laughing when Austria looked up and their gazes met.

He didn’t expect a smile, sober Austria hadn’t often found a reason to smile at him in his reality either, but this was even worse than Hungary’s smug attitude. His eyes were empty, looking at him and not looking at him at the same time. He was looking through him, looking inside him, and discarding him as mildly interesting but not worth playing with. When he did smile, it was anything but warm.

“Prussia, Germany.” He nodded at them, lifting an arm for Hungary to take. “Thank you for having us. We were looking forward to seeing you again. There’s much to discuss.”

Prussia didn’t like the silence after his words. Short as it might be, it was less of a silence but a quiet conversation, words unspoken and yet echoing in the hidden meaning of what had been said. He didn’t feel like breaking it and yet was itching for someone to do it, a feeling like sitting in the backseat, waiting for the driver of the car to hit the brakes.

“It’s our pleasure,” Germany said. Out of the corner of his eyes Prussia noticed the soft downward curve of his brows indicating it wasn’t a pleasure at all. “I hope the journey wasn’t too exhausting. I know you had to take a few detours.”

Austria made a dismissive gesture. “It was all right. We’re used to it by now. Still, I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine. Do you have a _Grüner Veltliner_ perchance? I’m especially fond of those from the Danube Valley.”

Prussia suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Any other special requests? A feet massage, maybe? He smirked, raising a brow to mock Austria’s pretentiousness.

“What do you think we are? Barbarians? I’m certain we’ll find something to your liking in one of our fifteen wine cellars.”

Austria didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm of his words, his eyes fixed on the manor. Maybe he hadn’t even heard him. Germany must have heard him, though, because he shot a dark glance at him and quickly raised his voice.

“Follow me, please. We should be able to talk privately in the red study room.”

In the end, they did open a bottle of wine, albeit a _Riesling_ instead of Austria’s kind suggestion. The red study room was on the first floor but, unlike England’s room, it was situated in the left wing, far enough away from their unwilling guest that they wouldn’t be able to hear any sounds coming from him.

Its walls were painted in red making its name rather fitting, a dark pattern reminiscent of lilies covering it as well as fine, golden ornaments. There were a lot of books on multiple shelfs, most of them old-looking. They must have been dusted off recently, though, their spines straight and clean. There was a large wooden table beneath a golden, softly glowing chandelier, four armchairs on its four sides.

Sitting in one of them, Prussia felt as if he were drowning in its cushions as he took a small sip from the white wine. It tasted like nothing and still burned his tongue. He wondered if it was better not to drink anything to keep a clear head or to drown the glass and have the alcohol dull his nervousness and hunger. He eyed the bowl of biscuits longingly.

“Is there still a problem with France?” Austria asked. “We could send a small troop to support your stationary forces.”

Hungary pursed her lips and scoffed. “This problem shouldn’t have been there in the first place. You know that, don’t you? France’s yours to keep under control. If he’s too much of a nuisance to you, you might want to think about giving his lands over to us.”

Prussia felt a spark of anger at her words and a part of him, the one that didn’t quite belong to him, the one that made him remember memories he shouldn’t have, wanted to slap her. It wasn’t more than an impulse, a twitch of his muscles, but it made coldness seep into his body, his eyes widening. He swallowed hard.

“I wouldn’t call it a problem,” he muttered, speaking with a certainty he couldn’t explain. “You don’t call a wormy apple a problem. You just… throw it away...”

“Prussia’s right,” Germany said, showing no signs of discomfort. “There’s no need for… your intervention. I took the matter in my own hands. It’s dealt with. It won’t happen again.”

Hungary averted her narrowed eyes, hands clasped upon her lap, but Austria gave a short nod. He lifted a finely curved brow. “Any news about Russia?”

“No,” Germany said, the answer like hitting the tennis ball right back over the net. Prussia cast a short glance at him, more surprised than he liked to admit. They were supposed to be allies, weren’t they? Why didn’t he want to tell Austria and Hungary they might be able to track down Russia with England’s help? Was he being careful, still mistrusting England? Or maybe England wasn’t the only one he was mistrusting…

 _The new objectives…,_ he remembered Germany saying. _I know Austria and Hungary have been our friends for the longest time. I don’t blame you for getting worked up about it._

Prussia frowned. What was he up to? He felt like he should know but the more he tried to reach for the knowledge, the more it fled from him, like sand trickling through fingers.

“What a pity…,” Hungary muttered. “That bastard’s terribly well hidden. If only his people started to speak up about him…”

“He can’t stay hidden forever,” Austria said, two fingers at his chin. “We can be patient. He doesn’t have that privilege.”

His eyes lost their distant shine. He tilted his head, gaze wandering from Germany to Prussia with the slow examination a king might give his people, knowing he was in the right. “There’s a more pressing topic we need to talk about. I’ve heard England’s come here. That he’s your prisoner now.”

“That’s true.” Germany didn’t hesitate to meet his gaze.

“Didn’t you think it was worth notifying us, Hungary and me? It’s not every day a nation defies our rules that openly…” Austria’s expression darkened even more. “France’s behaviour in those last weeks led to numerous calls… why did we have to hear about England from our soldiers partying in Munich?”

“Do you really want to be bothered by the news of a single, unarmed man wandering into our hands?” Germany clicked his tongue. “Please, Austria… Hungary… you know how highly I think of you. We don’t even know yet why he did what he did… rest assured, if he tells us anything important we’ll notify you immediately.”

A cold shiver ran down Prussia’s back. Germany shouldn’t be such a good liar. This conversation shouldn’t feel like a costume party gone wrong. He looked at Austria and Hungary and he saw nothing of his two good friends in them. They weren’t allies. They were enemies, but they were playing a game and they were keeping up the pretences and they kept lying into each other faces because the first one to lose their mask would lose everything.

It was sad, really. Was this how it had always been? Fighting against each other in an endless vicious circle? Mistrusting every other country around you? Kicking whoever was already on the ground to make sure they wouldn’t ever get up again?

Prussia grimaced, lips twisting into an ugly grin. As much as they might look like them, countries really were much less human than you were led to believe. Or maybe that was the human part in them after all? Was it the country’s hunger that led to war or the people forming it? Whatever it was, he didn’t want to experience it ever again. It wasn’t because he was such a saint. It was because he knew just how easy it was to get lost in it.

The meeting lasted almost six hours. They talked about the upcoming celebrations and minor riots at the borders, new laws and the possible invention of a new holiday, and the general behaviour of the countries in the Great German Trade Association. By the time Austria and Hungary bid their goodbyes, the bowl of biscuits was empty and Prussia’s head spun from political terms and a past that wasn’t his.

Sometimes, not often but often enough to scare himself, he could hear his voice, could hear himself saying things he hadn’t planned to say. They were just rolling off his tongue as if they had been placed there by someone else. Sometimes he felt like his mind was shaking, pulling him into one direction, then into another, and he was a nothing more than a mute traveller.

He clenched his hands and pressed his teeth together and forced himself to think of his reality, the true reality, made himself remember memories he knew were true, made himself think of England, and how they had to leave, how they didn’t belong here, and he held onto this anchor like his life depended on it. It was working well so far, but who knew for how long?

Prussia had never been more relieved to watch Austria and Hungary’s car dash away. He was exhausted, not physically, but mentally in a way he had never been before. A headache ate its way through his temples and to his neck and he rubbed his face with a low groan. It was only after they had stepped back into the mansion that he voiced the question he still couldn’t find an answer to.

“Why didn’t you want to tell them ‘bout England?”

There was a loud clang when the vase hit the floor, shards flying all across the carpet, white flickers twirling and leaping. Though, it wasn’t louder than the roar which accompanied it, a sound of pure rage and frustration, more piercing than the shards could ever be. Prussia stared at Germany’s shaking form, frozen. His brother’s eyes were narrowed, the hand which had swept the vase off its table still swaying in the air, then making a fist.

“This despicable bastard and his bitch of a wife greatly, greatly overestimate their significance to our association… to the future which lies in our hands,” Germany growled, face twisted into something unrecognisable. Prussia briefly wondered if he had even heard his question.

“Our hands! Not theirs. Where were they when we defeated France in a matter of weeks? Where were they when we led troops through the Ural Mountains, endlessly searching for Russia and the Baltics? They’re clothing themselves in our victories. They’re laughing at our efforts while sitting in their comfortable armchairs and smoking their fancy pipes without doing anything noteworthy. They’re less than a shadow of what they used to be. The great Austro-Hungarian Empire… nothing more than a miserable joke now…”

Germany stalked across the room, a wild spark dancing through his eyes, approaching Prussia like a derailed train. Prussia felt the urge to step backward, to tense up, to prepare himself to fight, if necessary. It took every ounce of his willpower not to flinch when Germany stopped in front of him. He had to remind himself he had nothing to fear, not when this anger wasn’t even directed at him. Still, how could he know what to expect from a Germany who was behaving like this?

 _I don’t know him_ , Prussia realised, blood growing cold. He refused to acknowledge the part of him that did.

“I’m sorry, Prussia,” Germany muttered, not shaking anymore, still tense, though, still seething. He didn’t seem to be sorry at all. “We need to do something.”

He didn’t give Prussia any time to speak. Instead, he lifted a familiar device to his mouth and gave a single order.

“Initiate mission _Checkmate_.”

~


	8. The Fading Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's the incredibly self-indulgent smut scene :') Kind reminder to mind the tags (especially the pairing related ones). [The E-Rating means the fanfic's for adults but I won't check any IDs :P]

~

**Chapter 7: The Fading Shadow**

**~**

Prussia stared at the documents in front of him, only now realising he had been crumbling the paper with his hand. Sighing, he laid it flat against the wooden desk, smoothing it out with jerky movements. A small rip appeared when he pulled too hard on its edge, cutting straight through the date on the top, and he cursed under his breath. His gaze went back to the text, scanning it for a third or fourth time. Though, the letters could have been hieroglyphs just as well, he read but didn’t understand, couldn’t focus.

He gave up with a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Sure, he could write the reports and sign the letters while Germany interrogated England, no problem. That was what he had said because he couldn’t have said no, could he? It wouldn’t have made sense to say no, he was supposed to know most of what England could tell anyway, he had had enough time to talk to him after all. If there was anything England would add, Germany would simply fill him in later, easy as that. Right?

Prussia snorted, throwing his head back and crossing his arms. He couldn’t shake off the feeling it was just another test. But who was being tested? England? Or Prussia himself? Germany wanted to talk to England alone, that much was clear, and this lame request was just an excuse to do so.

When Prussia angrily put his signature beneath yet another document without reading it, the ink spilled and black blotches tainted the paper. Was he overreacting? Were his thoughts even making sense?

He couldn’t be sure. Though, considering Germany had just given orders to assassinate Austria and Hungary’s leader as soon as the moment was right, he couldn’t help but feel anxious. This was betrayal. Even worse, he would blame this horrible accident on another country, knowing fully well it would destroy them.

Prussia hoped he wouldn’t be there to witness the aftermath, hoped they would figure out a way to return back to their reality and forget everything about this cruel place before it came to that. He didn’t have any warm feelings towards this Austria and this Hungary, but even with only the bitter knowledge that they had been allies once, with only a distant memory of his old friends, he couldn’t help but feel bad, dirty even. He always hated backstabbing. He rather charged the enemy with a loaded gun and a bloody grin head-on, watching the fear blossom in their eyes first hand. It was an act of cowardice. Smart as it might be, there was no honour in it.

It wasn’t the only thing making his mind spin. There was also England, England who didn’t want to give up Russia’s letter, England who had to make something up, who had to fool Germany of all people, and Prussia wasn’t there to help him. Instead, he was signing fucking papers. Great.

He cast a glance at the clock ticking away at the wall and rose. Two hours were more than enough time to read and sign these unimportant reports. He couldn’t stay here, not with anxious thoughts shooting through his brain like ricochets. Maybe Germany was already done with England. Maybe he had still some time to talk to England to get their story straight without having his brother wondering where he was and what he was doing.

Dark thoughts, possibilities he didn’t want to think of and yet did, intruded his mind like weed he couldn’t get rid of. England blowing his cover and ending up in a cell once again. Germany realising they had been lying to him all along. Feeling the coldness of metal around his own wrists, diving into the shadows of his very own prison, awaiting a punishment that would only bring him further from home. He was caught up in those thoughts when he walked down the hallway to England’s room and fingers curled around his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Germany asked and Prussia cursed under his breath. It was an innocent enough question but he tensed up, waiting for harsh words and accusations that didn’t come.

“F-funny you’re asking,” Prussia said, forcing himself to grin. “Considering, I’m looking for you. You’re done with England, I guess?”

He didn’t want to turn around yet but Germany gave his back a little nudge, palm digging into the fabric of his clothes, fingers pushing just enough to force Prussia to face him. That much for having a talk with England without his brother’s knowledge. The hand left but Prussia still felt trapped when he begrudgingly met his gaze.

Germany nodded, face free of emotions. “We’ve talked.”

His brows were furrowed but they might just be from the stressful day. Prussia hadn’t heard any shouting or gun shots, so maybe the talk hadn’t gone too badly after all.

“I don’t want to discuss it in the middle of the hallway, though,” Germany added, the hint of a smile on his lips. “I can think of a few more comfortable places to do so, don’t you?”

Something about the words made a tingling sensation run through his body and Prussia swallowed hard, withstanding the urge to avert his eyes.

“Sure,” he mumbled. “I… I was just thinking I could check on England real quick…”

Unsurprisingly, Germany’s expression darkened, his mouth a tight line.

“He’s fine,” he muttered dangerously lowly. “And I doubt the five minutes since I’ve left have been enough time to alter this fact.”

Prussia’s heart dropped although his suggestion had been as desperate as clinging to a torn rope in the first place. He wouldn’t be able to talk to England until the next day.

“You’re right, of course,” he said, smiling broadly. He stretched his arms and shoulders, using it as an excuse to make a step backward. It wasn’t good to stand so close to Germany. It made him feel restless, as if a single touch were enough to get an electric shock. He didn’t want to take the risk. “I wasn’t thinking… must be the boredom of signing report after report. I think my fingers were cramping in the end…”

He gave a chuckle but it soon died away, leaving an itch in his throat he couldn’t scratch.

“Well…” Germany shrugged. “It’s necessary work.”

He turned around, nodding to the other end of the hallway while maintaining eye contact. Prussia had to follow him. It didn’t feel right to turn his back on England’s room but he tried to comfort himself with the thought that England wasn’t dead yet and could hopefully find some strength in a good night’s sleep.

When they reached the bedroom Prussia sat down on the mattress and sighed. A wave of exhaustion swept through him. His eyes followed Germany as he slipped out of the navy suit jacket, as he hung it over the back of a chair and reached for his face to tuck a wild strand of hair behind his ear. His fingers were lingering there briefly, his eyes closed, his body unmoving, and Prussia couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, why he could be nice and thoughtful in one moment and exploding in the next.

Despite himself, his thoughts began to wander as his gaze fell from Germany’s face to his chest, to the muscles moving behind the white fabric of his button-down shirt, to his stomach heaving with every breath, and he knew what it would look like, right, exposed and naked, he knew what it would feel like to reach out and touch and caress.

Heat ate up his face when he realised he was staring. It took all of willpower to tear his eyes away from his brother, _his brother_ , dammit, to gaze down at the carpet, hands frantically rubbing at his burning cheeks.

 _I’m tired. It’s messing with my mind, this is totally normal… totally normal_ , Prussia told himself, swallowing hard. His own thoughts were almost loud enough to drown out Germany’s voice.

“England told me he’s gotten letters from Russia,” his brother said. “That he destroyed them in fear they might fall into the wrong hands… that he needs time to remember them.”

The rustling of clothes, a sound like a scoff, a groan maybe. Prussia couldn’t be sure because he still didn’t dare to look up again.

“Doesn’t that sound oddly convenient to you? He has nothing to show us, only empty words. We can’t reject him now because he might just have what we need, given the right amount of time, and we can’t disprove his words and throw him into prison, either. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knew even less about Russia’s whereabouts than we… still, why would he do this? Why should he go through such lengths when there is nothing to gain?”

England had settled on the half-truth then. It was a good move, Prussia had to admit. Just as Germany had said, the plot of him needing to remember the correct words might just be able to buy them the time they needed. Though, it was Germany knowing this as well that was concerning him.

“Did he tell you anything else, Prussia? What do you think?”

Prussia froze. When he looked up, Germany, a brow raised, wasn’t wearing the shirt anymore and the fading heat returned with full force. He bit his lip before he could yell at him to cover himself, and that would have been truly ridiculous, right? Still, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, tingling rushes leaping through his body every now and then.

“No,” he spat out between clenched teeth, shaking his head. It was only when England’s bruised face appeared in his mind that he realised he probably should endorse his story. “I mean… I think he told me he wants to write down what he still knows tomorrow and, eh, fill in the blanks afterwards… I think the whole thing’s pretty believable… if I were Russia trying to fight a clearly superior force, I’d try to get more people on my side as well. Burning the letters makes sense if you consider what we’d have done if we had discovered them first… a-and maybe he’s only made up his mind about siding with us like a week ago, who knows?”

“England said he’s been considering working with us for quite some time now,” Germany argued, though he didn’t sound as certain as he could have been.

“W-well…” Prussia shrugged. “I doubt it’s been an easy decision. Better safe than sorry, eh? We can’t change the past. I think we should work with what we got.”

“Ah… maybe you’re right…,” Germany said. He didn’t sound entirely convinced but he didn’t sound as if it was bothering him, either. “I don’t want to talk about him anyway… at least for now. I’ve led enough frustrating conversations to last a lifetime today. I’d like the night to be more… enjoyable.”

“Tell me about frustration…,” Prussia muttered under his breath, thinking about England and their unsuccessful magical endeavours. When he gulped, it was like swallowing medicine, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the situation. _Thanks for reminding me_ , he though. His gaze fell to the carpet, though his mind was elsewhere.

What if they didn’t have much time anymore? Shouldn’t he try to use every minute they had left? Why was he here, preparing to sleep, when there were so many more urgent things to do? Why hadn’t he insisted on seeing England, on talking with him?

“It’s unfair, you know…,” Germany whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, different somehow, almost purring, and Prussia felt a rush of anticipation even before he knew what to expect. He frowned as he detached his eyes from the ground and lifted his head. It happened in a blur.

Germany crossed the distance between them und there were hands on his chest, pressing against his shoulder blades, pushing down. His back met the mattress and he gasped and before he knew it, Germany was on top of him, straddling his hips and unbuttoning his shirt. “I don’t think you should be fully clothed when I’m almost naked… don’t you agree?”

Prussia couldn’t say if he agreed because he couldn’t get his dry tongue to work, let alone get his screaming mind to focus. Some part of him noticed Germany had somehow lost his trousers since the last time he had looked at him because he touched bare skin when his hands reflexively reached out, and he flinched as if he had burned himself. Pearls of sweat were tingling his neck. His stomach flipped when he realised what was happening and he wanted to both laugh and grimace. How could he have been that dense?

Still, he had no time to hate himself because Germany was leaning down to kiss him and he let himself be kissed, let the hand at his chin tilt his head to deepen it, let the tongue part his lips, and it felt a bit like drowning. It also felt like flying, and maybe he was, flying to a place where his rational mind couldn’t follow.

 _I don’t want this. I’m just playing along to save my head_ , he tried to tell himself, but it was hard to cling to the thought when there were moments just like this flying through his mind, unwanted memories, when Germany was grinding against him, when he could feel himself getting harder by the minute. Eyes fluttering open, he couldn’t help but see: blond hair glimmering in the chandelier’s light like a halo, cheeks painted a soft pink, muscles glistening with sweat, a glint in this wonderfully blue eyes that ate him up, that caught him and didn’t let him go, and he wanted to sob because it was indeed unfair.

His brother was gorgeous, beautiful, sexy, and now that Prussia had let those thoughts into his heart, he couldn’t escape them, no matter how much he tried to fight them. He wanted to be angry with him but he was even angrier with himself. Shouldn’t he fight harder? Shouldn’t he be stronger than this?

Maybe. However, he didn’t fight back when Germany threw his jacket and shirt behind them and somewhere on the carpet. He didn’t fight any of the kisses or the touches, sometimes as light as feathers, sometimes dragging across his skin as if wanting to leave marks, and he couldn’t help but moan softly whenever there was pressure against his throbbing erection. He felt dizzy and sometimes the waves of pleasure were enough to numb his misery.

What would England say if he could see him now? Would he be appalled? Disgusted?

Prussia clenched his teeth, trying to shake off the thoughts. Though, the more he tried, the more prominent they became, until he could almost feel England’s presence in the room, until he could hear his voice, the words he had said after Germany had kissed him in his room, and he couldn’t breathe, fingers clutching the blankets as if they were the only thing keeping him afloat.

“Prussia...,” Germany breathed against his lips and Prussia tried to focus on him, swallowing hard. “You’re different than usual, Prussia.”

If he had felt tired before, he was now wide awake. Germany could have slapped him in his face just as well.

“I’m n-not,” he croaked out, surprised at his own voice and, most of all, that he managed to utter a word in the first place. A spike of fear ran through him and he struggled to keep himself from giving in to it. Germany couldn’t know about his situation, he couldn’t, it wouldn’t make sense. Prussia shot a glare at him, trying to ignore the ice in his veins. “What makes you say such bullshit?”

“Don’t be upset.” Germany snorted, shifting backwards slightly. He drew lazy circles with his hand on Prussia’s chest, every now and then brushing against his still clothed dick, making him suck in breath. “It was just an observation. It doesn’t bother me that you’re more submissive now, I quite enjoy it-“

“What the hell, I’m not-“

Prussia, face burning from both anger and shame, would have finished the sentence if Germany hadn’t grasped his chin to cut him off, thumb digging into his lips, barely grazing the teeth beneath them.

“No need to deny it. I know you better than anyone else,” Germany said, eyes shimmering with desire, but also love. “Like I’ve said, I’m fine with it. There’s something that makes me wonder, though.”

Prussia knew what Germany would say even before the word reached his ear. He could feel it in the change in the air, could hear whispering memories taunting him, could see a familiar silhouette before his eyes.

“England.”

Oddly enough, it wasn’t the disgusted growl Prussia had expected. It was spoken slowly but without any wavering syllables, confident, so very certain, without emotions tainting the name.

“W—what… what’s wrong with him?” he couldn’t help but ask, furrowing his brows. He hadn’t even finished the question, though, when uneasiness trickled through his body. He wanted nothing more than to take back the words, feeling as if he had made a terrible mistake. Germany’s face darkened. A shiver ran down Prussia’s back.

“I don’t like competition.”

He was growling now, voice almost too low to understand and yet loud enough to rang through Prussia’s brain. _Damn_ , he thought, tingling shivers running through him at the underlying meaning of the words. _England’s been right_.

“I…” He cleared his throat, struggling not to moan when Germany pressed himself closer until his lips were hovering barely above his own, warm breath caressing his cheeks, a hand playing with the soft hair in the nape of his neck.

“I don’t think he, uh, l-loves me anymore… it’s been like two hundred years… no more than a shadow o-of, eh.. of a lingering feeling.” He took a deep breath to calm himself down, only then allowing himself to snort shakily, grinning somewhat. “I’ve never pegged you as the jealous type.”

Germany narrowed his eyes, stiffening while his gaze kept roaming over Prussia’s face.

“I’m not sure he loves you,” he whispered, something hiding in his expression. “You, however… you like him, don’t you? I don’t know why you’re dancing around each other like moths around flames but I know… whatever it is… I’d much rather be a part of it.”

Prussia could only stare at him, not daring to speak in case he would not only doom himself but England just as well.

“Do you want him, Prussia?”

“W-what…?” Prussia managed to utter, unable to follow. He and… England? How did this conversation go from an off-handed comment about jealousy to this? England supposed crush of 1814 wasn’t even real, only one of his dumb ideas used to save their asses from getting imprisoned or worse. He didn’t even like England that much, him with his odd magic and temper and smug attitude. It was just that he was the only remnant of his true past, the only thing reminding him he wasn’t going crazy, the only thing giving him hope. That didn’t mean he… he…

“You could have him, you know,” Germany murmured into his ear and goosebumps spread all over his skin. “I can help you. It would be easy, you wouldn’t even have to do much. He’s here after all. He’s offered himself to us and agreed to our terms, doesn’t that make him ours? Listen… Prussia…”

A kiss just beneath his earlobe, making him shiver, a hand grazing his Adam’s apple, softly following the lines of his throat. When Germany spoke again, his voice was even lower, dark, exciting, drawing him in like a fire in the night. “If we asked him to join us, he wouldn’t be able to say no. Just imagine it, Prussia… wouldn’t you like that? England at your mercy, on his knees, naked, yearning for your touch, begging for more?”

Prussia didn’t want to imagine it.

Though, as it often was with the things you tried to resist the hardest, he couldn’t keep his focus for more than a few moments before his thoughts wandered astray, wandered to regions he hadn’t even wanted to watch from afar.

Why shouldn’t he want England? England wasn’t fit and muscular like Germany but he was attractive in his own way. He had symmetrical features, pink and full lips, soft and slender hands that were just asking to be held, that would surely feel great stroking his half-hard cock to full length. His eyes were pretty as well, a shade of green Prussia hadn’t seen on anyone else yet, often narrowed into a glare, yes, a shame really, but wouldn’t that make it just all the more exciting to watch him struggle to keep his calm? To see those eyes glaze over with pleasure even as he tried to fight, his own body turning against him? Yeah, fucking England would be far from an awful experience, and Germany was right, he was here, almost asking for it, he was…

“That’s what I figured,” Germany mumbled, chuckling lightly. His hand slipped past the edge of Prussia’s trousers and underwear to curl around his fully erect length and, damn, he shouldn’t have been that hard, he really shouldn’t find this whole thing arousing at all. Still, he couldn’t help but arch into the touch, into the warm pressure of all too familiar hands, sighing lowly, hot shivers dancing over his body. He hardly noticed when his remaining clothes were pushed down his legs and he instinctively kicked them off, grateful for the cool air to graze his heated skin.

“Look at you, so very eager…” There was admiration in Germany’s words, affection, and it was easy to focus on that, to focus on being loved and wanted and appreciated and a part of him wondered why he was even fighting at all when there wasn’t anything wrong with this situation. When it would feel so wonderful to give in to the pleasure’s fire. “You’d love that, don’t you? Having us both, England and me? I know you would, I can feel it. My sweet, selfish brother… you’re aching for it…”

Prussia wanted to shake his head, wanted to deny and argue and laugh it off. Wanted to escape first and foremost. Wanted to slam his hands on his ears because he didn’t want to hear those words, those words that filled him with a dark desire, that made him want to claim and be claimed, that made his cock twitch with lust and heat.

Germany kissed him and he slung his arms around his neck, feeling a bit like trying to hold onto flames. Before he knew it, he was feverishly returning the kiss, rocking himself against his brother with jerky movements, light-headed, caught up in the ecstasy of the situation.

“I could still get England,” Germany murmured into his ear, his voice hoarse and slightly shaky, and for a horrible moment Prussia wanted to say yes, wanted to throw all caution to the winds and follow the hazy fog inside his mind to wherever it would lead him. He opened his mouth, eyelids fluttering, and it seemed like the most delicious idea until it wasn’t.

Until he remembered England, really remembered him, the way he had been forced to this place because of Prussia, the way he had been struggling with nothing but violence and fear and anxiety for the last days, the way he wouldn’t want anything like this to happen at all.

Germany might not be so sure about it, but Prussia knew for a fact England didn’t like, let alone love him. He knew England would have to play along, of course he would, and Prussia might be gone far enough to be able to ignore the distress in his eyes for the night, but he wouldn’t be able to forget. England would hate him and he would hate himself even more than he already did. There was no way he could betray him like this, not even with Germany whispering so very sweet promises into his ear. It took all of his willpower to shake his head, to snort.

“Don’t… don’t be ridiculous…,” he mumbled, a painful smile on his lips. “I only want you. I want to feel you… I want you to fuck me… I need you and I know you need me as well. You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you? I might be selfish but I’m also impatient, so stop playing around and fuck me already!”

Germany let out a low growl, placing a short kiss on Prussia’s half-opened mouth, sucking in his bottom lip, biting down gently. “W-well…,” he breathed shakily. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Prussia eagerly parted his legs to welcome Germany’s fingers when they, slick with lube, slid into him all too easily and he bit back a moan when they parted, curling and twisting with a sinful promise. Their panting was loud in the air, the sound of moving, sweaty bodies and rustling blankets a constant background static.

He tensed up when Germany buried himself in him with one thrust, seeing stars, not even noticing the sounds he was making. Though, it didn’t take long for him to cling to the pleasure of being filled up, of feeling his brother move inside him, of listening to his desperate moans and whispered words of affection. His legs, halfway lifted into the air, were shaking with every thrust and he couldn’t help but groan, trying to arch into the rhythm. He didn’t even care that it was Germany, his brother, or maybe he did care and yearned for it all the more, the exclusiveness of it, the danger, the way they were connected like no one else. It felt right. He felt powerful.

When he came it was unlike any time before, long and drawn-out and building up like a hurricane, taking him with it, letting him fly through the air and twitch with pleasure. It was almost enough to scare him.

~


	9. The Nature Of Memories

**Chapter 8: The Nature Of Memories**

**~**

Prussia woke up with Germany’s arms curled around him. The warmth engulfing him made it all too easy to relax, to keep his eyes closed, to return to sleep’s peaceful embrace for just a few more moments. He knew he wasn’t the only one awake when he noticed fingers brushing over his upper arm, drawing gentle circles.

“How long have you been awake?” he murmured sluggishly, a smile reaching for his lips. What time was it anyway? He could see light and shadows dancing before his eyelids, so it couldn’t be too early, but he hoped it wouldn’t be too late, either. There were things he needed to do, important things… right? A flicker of uneasiness disrupted his comfort, unwelcome as the noise of an alarm clock going off, and he furrowed his brows. What was it he needed to do exactly?

“An hour at most,” Germany said without interrupting his caresses. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let you oversleep. We don’t need to get up for another… twelve minutes.”

“Ah?” Prussia’s eyelids fluttered open and he reached out to pull Germany into a kiss, enjoying the way the familiar lips were melting against his own. Though, he couldn’t quite relax when a painful spark ran through the back of his head, when a pounding appeared just below his temple, not quite aching yet but not possible to ignore, either. He pulled a face, pressing a thumb and an index finger against the spot as he let himself fall back on the mattress. He didn’t like how he felt, as if he had to consciously reach for his thoughts and memories, as if they were trying to hide from him. He hadn’t been drunk yesterday, had he?

“Uh… is there anything important we need to do today?” he mumbled, not wanting to leave the bed to get the appointment calendar yet. Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered to ask but he couldn’t shake off the bad feeling creeping through his mind. What was he missing?

Out of the corner of his eye, Prussia could see his brother raising a brow, eyeing him with a slightly concerned expression. The sun got caught in his hair, giving it a golden shine. He was quiet for a moment, then sighed.

“I’d say that depends on England and how good he’s in memorising letters… there’re also the preparations for the 50-years-celebrations, a meeting… though, I’m thinking about moving that to next week…”

Prussia wasn’t listening anymore but clenching his teeth as images and scraps of conversations ran through his mind. What did Germany say? Something about England and letters, right? Hadn’t he had a talk with England about letters? Or rather a single letter, a letter from that bastard Russia, their vanished enemy. He didn’t have an excuse when he spoke because he could have stayed silent just as well, because he wasn’t intending for anyone to hear him, Germany least of all. Or maybe he didn’t know himself as well as he thought he did.

“Right… Russia’s letter,” he said, struggling to organise the chaos of his thoughts. His head was aching as it had met a brick wall after a fall, making it even harder to focus. What was it England had said? “611.2 Augustus watches the first sun set at midnight… yeah. What a dumb message. Though, I give him bonus points for creativity…”

“What… what did you say?”

 _Oh no._ Prussia’s blood transformed into ice when he turned his head to look at Germany, noting the tension of his face, the intensity of his hard gaze, the blue of his eyes like a raging sea, a deep darkness beneath its waters. It was then that his headache faded away and the puzzle pieces clicked into place. That he broke through the water’s surface and found clarity. He felt sick, a wave of nausea rolling over him, and it was almost enough to make him gag. He remembered, oh how well he remembered. This wasn’t who he was, this was wrong, they were wrong, they shouldn’t be here…

England. He needed to talk to him. They needed to get back, he couldn’t stay here, he would die if he didn’t leave, or he would lose everything that made him himself and that would be even worse. His vision got blurry when he shook his head, cursing under his breath, fingers running frantically over the blankets without being able to grasp, because he couldn’t feel them, because he couldn’t breathe, because he was scared, so very, very scared.

Hands grasped his shoulders, their grip unmoving and almost firm enough to hurt him. He looked up and met Germany’s gaze, got caught like a deer in the headlights. It was both terrifying and comforting.

“What exactly did you say, Prussia?” Germany demanded to know, voice dangerously low, eyes as piercing as sharpened knifes.

Prussia knew what Germany wanted to know, what he must have heard, what he must have deduced from those words, and he knew he couldn’t lie. He had fucked up. He bit his lip. The taste of iron flooded his mouth as if he were drowning in blood. He was such a terrible idiot. Oh god, how could he ever hope to make this up to England? How could he let himself go that much?

“I, eh…” He cleared his throat, trying to find a straw to cling to, an idea, something, anything. He had promised England not to tell Germany about the letter. He couldn’t breach his trust, could he?

Prussia paused, letting the breath out of his lungs, then inhaling slowly, forcing himself to calm down. Would it really be so bad if Germany knew the truth about the letter? Wasn’t England overreacting, clinging to long lost honour? Couldn’t it be good, helpful even to tell his brother? Russia’s desperate attempts at overthrowing the Empire didn’t matter, not when they intended to erase this reality. It was far more important to reach their goal. Even if the German Empire were to annex the remaining parts of Russia, what did it matter to them?

“Didn’t… didn’t England tell you?” Prussia said, raising a brow. “He got a letter from Russia… just a few days ago. We talked about it before the meeting with Austria and Hungary. Unfortunately, we couldn’t figure out what it meant…”

Germany stared at him as if he had made a terrible joke, waiting for a punchline that wouldn’t come. His mouth opened, but it took a long, tense moment until words filled the room.

“Prussia…” Germany glared at him. “Sometimes you really don’t think, do you?”

Prussia let out the breath he had held, relief flooding him. Those words stung, but he rather had Germany considering him a bit forgetful than a traitor from another world. He gave a small shrug, trying not to grin too obviously.

“Now you’re being mean.” He snorted. “We had a lot on our plate yesterday.”

“Getting Russia should be our first priority!” Germany snarled, clenching his hands to fists. “After fifty years, I thought you’d know that. With him gone, there won’t be anyone to oppose us left. You…”

The word ended in a frustrated groan and Prussia couldn’t help but flinch, struggling not to feel guilty. He really shouldn’t feel guilty. He pulled down the blanket around his upper body, pushing himself into an upright position and reaching over to grab a pencil and a small notebook from the top drawer of the night shelf.

“For god’s sake…” He rolled his eyes. “Calm down. Look, I write it down for you… maybe you’re better in solving riddles than England.”

England’s voice in the back of his head, a tendril of guilt weaving its way through his guts, he wrote down the letter’s single line. The pencil felt oddly heavy in his hand. When he finished, his gaze lingered on the words and a frown found its way into his face. _611.2 Augustus watches the first sun set at midnight._

Maybe the letter wasn’t that difficult to understand at all. Maybe they just hadn’t had the time to think about it. The numbers, yes, the numbers didn’t really make sense but the other part…

“I think he wants to meet England on the first Sunday in August… at midnight, obviously,” he murmured, pursing his lips. “There’s no place, though. Those aren’t coordinates…”

He gave the notebook to Germany, shrugging. His brother’s gaze focused on the words, his eyes narrowed and perhaps not even blinking. Prussia watched his mouth press into a tight line, his jaw working. The silence wasn’t an easy one and it stretched far longer than Prussia had expected. When he broke it, Germany’s voice was calm again, a smile hiding in it.

“Russia doesn’t want to meet him yet. You’re right, those numbers aren’t coordinates, it’s a broadcast frequency.”

Prussia’s eyes widened. Of course, Russia didn’t want to risk his letter getting intercepted and his residence being revealed. He felt a bit silly he hadn’t thought about this but using broadcast frequencies to send messages wasn’t exactly common in the 21. century. It made sense for England and him to be oblivious to it. 

“Sunday is in two days,” Germany noted, throwing the blanket off his body with hasty movements. “The meeting needs to be delayed. We need to talk to England as soon as possible.” 

When he got out of the bed, striding across the room and to the bordering bathroom, it was with confident, if hurried steps. He didn’t seem to care that he was naked, and Prussia wouldn’t have either, if it hadn’t reminded him of last night. He averted his eyes, heat rushing to his face, and desperately tried to shake off the memories. He didn’t even know what to think anymore. There was only one thing he was sure of: he was far too deep in this mess. The question remained whether he would be able to get out of it. 

~ 

It was about two hours later when Prussia found himself standing in front of the guest room, Germany next to him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to talk to England alone first. His brother didn’t like wasting time with showering and afterwards he hadn’t left Prussia’s side either because they had needed to prepare their talk with England and the next steps in capturing Russia. Prussia would have liked to explain to England why he had chosen to break his promise but Germany was already suspicious, he shouldn’t have any more reason to think they weren’t trustworthy. He could only hope England would cooperate.

Inside the room England was lying on the bed, eyes fixed on _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_ , one hand holding the book above his head, the other turning the pages. He wore different clothes from the day before, black trousers and a clean, white button-down shirt which didn’t quite fit him, its cuffs rolled up, the fabric too puffy. An absent part of Prussia wondered how he had gotten them but, in the end, he couldn’t care less.

He couldn’t help but smile because England already looked much better than the day before. Yes, the bruises were still horribly apparent, but his face wasn’t that swollen and pale anymore, the blood and dirt washed away, and there was an air of piece surrounding him as his eyes roamed over the text. It almost hurt to burst this bubble, to watch him tense up as they crossed the threshold.

England shut the book with a loud clap and put it on the shelf next to the bed, rising to a more upright position, eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Ah…” Their gazes crossed, wary confusion swimming in England’s green, _very pretty_ eyes, but Prussia surprised himself by looking away as soon as it happened, heart leaping to his throat. He bit the inside of his cheek, only barely keeping himself from blushing, uninvited thoughts and memories flying through the back of his mind like evil ghosts.

“Now, I can’t help but wonder what the reason behind this surprising visit might be. Care to enlighten me, gentlemen?”

Germany’s smile was small but confident, the smile of a man who was holding all the cards. Prussia noted he was more relaxed than the day before, the blatant disgust towards England gone, or at least fading away, and he didn’t quite know what to make of that.

“Congratulations. We’ve got a job for you,” his brother said. “You should be pleased with it. It’s bringing us closer to Russia and you can show your undying loyalty to the Empire once more.”

England pursed his lips, the smallest hint of a frown in his face. He was silent, though, waiting for Germany to continue. When it didn’t happen, he let out a strangled sigh.

“What do you want me to do?”

Germany took his time replying, reaching into the pocket of his jacket with a laziness so very unlike the haste of the morning, and Prussia would have been annoyed if he hadn’t been anxious first and foremost. Even if England hadn’t been sitting and Germany hadn’t been towering over him, it would have been easy to tell who the captive and who the captor was, and Germany’s behaviour was only emphasising the fact. Prussia grimaced, crossing his arms. There was no doubt he was enjoying this.

“Do you remember this?” Germany asked, handing England the piece of paper Prussia had written the letter’s words upon.

England practically tore it from his grip, expression darkening by the minute. Prussia could feel his stomach twist when he watched him pale as his eyes flew over the familiar line. He didn’t make a sound, though, his lips tightly pressed together. The paper was crumbling from the intensity of his grip. His gaze was lingering on the words far too long for the time it must have taken him to read them but Prussia couldn’t blame him. It was a miracle England didn’t yell or rise to charge at him. Maybe it was only Germany’s presence keeping him from exploding.

When England detached his eyes from the note, it was to look at Prussia, his cold gaze jumping all over his face as if trying to find something in it, and this time Prussia forced himself to return it, cold sweat making his neck tingle. _Please_ , he begged even though England couldn’t possibly read his thoughts. _Don’t do anything stupid. Hate me, if you want to, be disappointed, but don’t deny it, don’t you dare deny it and doom us both._

Whatever it was England had been looking for, he seemed to find it because he turned his head to Germany, inhaling shakily.

“I don’t really need to answer that question, do I?” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t have asked me if you hadn’t been certain I’d recognise this… this letter.”

“Well, you can’t blame me. It seems like you’re having trouble remembering such things recently…” Germany shrugged. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that made a cold shiver run down Prussia’s neck. “But please don’t worry, forgetting’s a natural process… the brain’s way to clean, adapt, and improve itself. You’re not the only one who’s forgetting things… I for my part just can’t seem to recall if you’ve mentioned this letter yesterday during our talk. Do you?”

England’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard, still refusing to openly show a sign of distress. Still, Prussia knew it was only a question of time until he would slip. He was nervous himself but England was in an even worse position. He knew he needed to help him. Clearing his throat, he gave Germany’s shoulder a pat, drawing his attention away from poor England, if only for a short while.

“I’m afraid he couldn’t have told you.” Prussia gave him an apologetic smile. “You see… I explicitly told him not to tell you because… eh, because I wanted to do it myself. As we couldn’t quite find the solution to the letter’s riddle yesterday, I thought it would be better to go over it with you, uh, privately. I also wanted to give England time to remember in case the letter was meant to be a follow-up to an earlier one.”

He laughed shakily, rubbing his neck. “I can’t believe I’ve only now remembered that… must have been the wine from the meeting… sorry.”

Their gazes locked and Prussia knew Germany didn’t believe him. He had lived with him long enough to know this look, usually reserved for low-ranking officials who tried to climb their career ladders with boisterous talks about fake accomplishments. It wasn’t an open rejection, wasn’t more than the dark glow of burning coal, lurking in the shadows, hidden, but nursed. Many wouldn’t even have noticed a change in his expression. Still, it was there and Prussia knew it wasn’t good, knew his brother wouldn’t forgive and forget. He held his breath but there was also a strange serenity flooding him.

He didn’t care if Germany believed him or not. He didn’t care if Germany got even more suspicious of him. As long as there was the smallest sliver of doubt in Germany’s mind, a whispering voice assuring him Prussia wouldn’t lie to him or betray him, he was safe. At least, that was what he was hoping.

“All right,” Germany said, his passive voice making it difficult to tell what was going through his head. Was it a good sign he was giving in? Or was it just a delay of the inevitable explosion? “I’m sure there won’t be any more… misunderstandings… like this in the future.”

He paused, gaze wandering from Prussia to England as if to make sure they were listening.

“To answer your question, England… you’re going to tell Russia what he needs to hear to make him walk into a trap we’ll carefully set up. Considering the content of the letter and the desperate state he must be in, I think it’s logical to assume he wants to meet you, or at the very least wants to ask for your support. Not being a complete idiot, unfortunately, he didn’t write down his place of residence in the letter… but he seems to be broadcasting a message two days from now. We want you to reply to that message.

“Of course, we have to spread rumours about your escape because he must’ve gotten the news about your recent trip to central Europe and might be getting suspicious. I think it goes without saying you shouldn’t try to hide secret messages or hints in your reply.”

Germany raised a brow. “Do you think you can do that?”

England took a shaky breath, a small smile in his face that seemed only a bit forced. “I… I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to. After all, it’s you I want to work with. You’ll see… soon Russia as he was won’t be more than a fading memory.”

~

If it had been difficult to talk to England before, it was now getting damn near impossible. Germany didn’t want to discuss what had happened, though he always found a reason to accompany Prussia to check up on England and the progress of their plan, and there were his own responsibilities as a country as well. Things he had been craving to do for what seemed like an eternity now were a bother more than anything else. Even when Prussia thought he could squeeze in a short visit without his brother noticing, such as when Germany went for a run or had to accept an important call, there was always something else hindering him from making progress on their secret goal.

The whole day Prussia had been itching to talk to England, about what had happened, about Germany and Russia’s letter and what it meant for them, about how they could go from there. However, it turned out England wasn’t feeling the same way.

His brother hadn’t insisted on delivering the soup and bread for dinner himself and Prussia had been overflowing with joy. Though, when he had tried to talk to England in the evening, a string of apologies leaving his mouth, England had only glared at him, crossing his arms and refusing to speak to him. At the end of a very heated and one-sided conversation, Prussia had barely managed to refrain himself from throwing the bowl at England’s thick head. Why couldn’t he understand it had been for the best of both of them? What made making up a short message in a well-kept, comfortable room so horrible that he was willing to put their escape on hold because of it? Didn’t he want to get back for god’s sake?

That night he let Germany fuck him again, because if England didn’t care about anything but himself Prussia might as well enjoy himself too. If there was a green, disappointed gaze staring at him out of the darkness whenever he closed his eyes, it didn’t bother him. At least that was what he was telling himself. When Germany asked him if he wanted England to join them, he considered saying yes just to spite him.

In the end, he couldn’t do it.

~


	10. Friend And Foe

**Chapter 9: Friend And Foe**

**~**

When Prussia brought him breakfast the next morning, England apologised. His voice wasn’t louder than necessary and his lips curled as if he had bitten into a rotten apple, but his eyes, devoid of anger and disgust, were hesitantly directed at him.

Prussia looked at him, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, and it didn’t feel right and yet he felt as if should be. He felt good, strong, as if he could take on the whole world if it dared to threaten him. He felt like laughing even though his eyes were burning. When he spoke, he wasn’t speaking, could hear himself as if he were in a dream, or far down on the ground of an ancient well. Still, he was the one forming words, it was his lips that were moving, there was no denying that. He only noticed the missing pieces when they returned.

“Oh England, you know how much I love a heartfelt apology but you don’t really think that’s all it takes, do you?” he sneered, fighting the urge to reach out and pet England’s head as if he were a dog. “You’ve been even more of a bother than France, that pathetic excuse for a country. After everything you’ve done… y-you..”

The words left his tongue as if whisked away. A wave of nausea ran through him, short but intense enough to make him lift a hand to his mouth, his stomach churning. He felt as if he had run a marathon after fasting a whole week, dizzy and shaken.

When he managed to look up again, England had made a step backward, pale and wide-eyed as if he had seen a ghost. He seemed different from just a minute before, as if he hadn’t been really there before, or as if Prussia had looked at him through a pair of wrong glasses. It was scary.

“I-I… s-sorry, I… I didn’t… d-don’t…” Coldness seeped into his body as if he were tumbling through a snow storm, the hand on his mouth muffling his words, trembling. His voice was barely more than a whisper. “What the heck… did I just say?”

He was glad he had already put down England’s toasts with cheese and marmalade, otherwise the plate would have been lying shattered on the floor.

“Prussia…,” England said, sounding breathless. “In which year did the Berlin Wall fall?”

Prussia stared at him, then snorted. “Why, in 1989, of course.”

“Oh, thank God…,” England muttered. He closed his eyes as he took a few deep breaths. His face, while still being more white than anything else, regained a soft pink shimmer. When their gazes met again, Prussia was taken aback by the worry flickering through his eyes. “Please tell me you feel like yourself again. I don’t think I…”

He didn’t finish the sentence but let out a strangled sigh.

“Oh fuck…” Prussia sunk on a nearby chair before his knees would grow too weak to hold him. He didn’t care about England’s sulking anymore, he didn’t care if it had cost them time because it didn’t matter anyway if there wasn’t much of it left. He didn’t feel like he could hold himself together for much longer and the realisation made him feel sick all over again. He clenched his teeth and pressed a hand at his temple, then rubbing his face. “England… w-what the hell’s happening to me?”

Of course, he knew all too well what was happening to him. England had already warned him about it after all.

“I think… I think your mind’s adapting to this reality…,” England murmured. “You, the Prussia from the 21. century, isn’t supposed to be here… but there is another Prussia… a stronger Prussia… that your mind pushes you to be…” A small groan. “I didn’t think it would be this soon. Did… did this happen before?”

Prussia tried to take a deep breath but didn’t feel like his lungs were working. His hand fell from his face and clutched the fabric of his trousers, the knuckles white and tense. He should have been more careful, he should have… shouldn’t have…

“Yesterday morning…,” he whispered. “I didn’t remember you or anything about the last days for… maybe five to ten minutes… and now… it’s like I don’t even notice what I’ve lost until it’s too late. It’s been an hour since I woke up…”

A shudder ran through him and he turned his head to look at England, his eyes so wide it hurt. “It’s been an hour and I’ve only been remembering those things now. I was feeling good for fuck’s sake! How can I feel good when I’m not even myself? I didn’t want to be like this. I didn’t want to be here! I didn’t ask for this, this isn’t what I wished for! It’s horrible, i-it’s…”

It was making him feel alive.

Prussia shook his head, rubbing away the angry tears burning in his eyes because England shouldn’t see him cry, because he was better than this, wasn’t he? He took a shaky breath. “W-What about you? Aren’t you feeling any different? Why is it only me who has to deal with this shit?”

England, sitting on the bed, furrowed his brows slightly. “I… I don’t know… there are times that I’m feeling angrier than I should be but I… I’m fine as far as I can tell. M-maybe… maybe it’s because the England from here isn’t as strong as my old self. There’s no reason for me to assume an inferior identity. In time perhaps…”

He paused, swallowing hard. “Do you feel like there’s a pattern behind your… blackouts? You shouldn’t be losing yourself that quickly… something about this reality has to be affecting you differently than me.”

Something affecting him differently. Something or…

Prussia froze. In a matter of seconds he went from feeling cold to having his face heat up with shame and anger. He cursed under his breath, wondering if it was possible for the floor to open up and swallow him. It would certainly be better than having the conversation he was about to have. He exhaled slowly until he knew he couldn’t avoid talking to England anymore.

“I…” He cleared his throat, though it didn’t make it less dry. “I might have been… uh, sleeping with Germany.”

England stared at him, eyebrows raised, shock drawn all over his face. “E-excuse me, you… y-you did w-what?!”

Prussia opened his mouth but England raised a trembling hand, making a dismissive gesture.

“Wait, please don’t repeat yourself. I’ve already understood you perfectly fine the first time. You… oh God...” He narrowed his eyes, suppressed anger seeping into his voice. “Didn’t I tell you he’s dangerous?! What were you thinking?! He’s the reason you’re like this, of course he is! The more time you spend with him, the more your mind’s going to get used to him… and because he sees you as he remembers you, as you should be in this reality, you change… especially when he’s the last person you’re talking to before you fall asleep. When you’re asleep your brain clings to him and that makes it more difficult to come back to your old memories in the morning. It makes perfect sense.”

“So, you’re telling me to avoid my brother, lover, and business partner who’s already suspicious and doesn’t want to leave me alone?” Prussia pressed his eyelids shut, grimacing. “Fat chance. Goodbye dear old me, you’re as good as dead.”

The silence lay heavily on his shoulders, helplessness rushing through him like a poison he couldn’t escape. There was nothing he could do, was there? Not when he couldn’t even control his own memories, his own mind. Maybe he should just give in to his fate.

“Perhaps… not,” England murmured absentmindedly and Prussia opened his eyes.

England wasn’t looking at him anymore. His gaze was directed at his hands resting in his lap, his shoulders slumped. Prussia could still see the old bruise in his face, the purple spots yellowing at the edges, prominent but fading more with each passing day. Did it still hurt? He let his fingers tap against his trousers, withstanding the urge to reach out and touch England’s cheek, maybe smoothing out the wrinkles in his forehead. It was an odd thought to have and he was glad when England continued to speak.

“I’m truly sorry, Prussia,” he whispered. “I still don’t like what you’ve done but I guess I might have been overreacting… especially now, especially here. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was angry a-and… I was afraid. I hated to be in that situation… with Germany knowing I’ve lied to him. For a moment… I really thought you turned against me…”

He let out a shaky breath. “I now realise I might have been making things worse for you. When you’re with me, you don’t have those blackouts, do you? You don’t lose yourself because I… perhaps even my mere presence can serve as an anchor for you.”

Prussia straightened his back. England’s words made sense. Maybe there was enough time for them to return after all. Maybe all of this wouldn’t be more than a bad dream soon. He felt a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m… I’m also sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise… a-and I’m sorry you’re here because of me in the first place.”

England snorted lamely. “You’ve already apologised to me.”

“Yeah, I know… I just felt like doing it again. You know, since we might have to spend even more time together, I really think we shouldn’t hate each other.”

It was only then that England looked up, not quite smiling but not frowning either. Something was flickering through his eyes, though too quickly to be recognisable. “Well… I, for my part, never hated you, Prussia. You can be fairly likable when you aren’t trying to be annoying.”

“Huh?” Prussia raised his brows, a warm wave making his chest tingle. “Did my ears deceive me? That was almost nice, England. Be careful, or else it might become a habit.”

England chuckled. “You can make it up to me by helping me re-establish our reality.. or maybe get me some books on magic and wishing wells, preferably leather-bound.”

“All right. Will do.” Prussia rose and gave his stiff muscles a stretch. “I should probably get going. My bro-eh, Germany’s probably waiting for me and I don’t want him to come and get me. I’ll try to come back later. I… I’ll think about what you’ve said…”

He turned to go but froze when England raised his voice once more. “Wait! Maybe there’s something I can do to help you stay grounded… close your eyes and take deep breaths.”

Prussia frowned as he watched England get up and approach him. Though, he soon shrugged and let his eyes fall shut, losing a little more of the tension residing in his body with each new breath. It was easy to trust England, easier than he had expected. He felt safe, his mind was calm like a sea without a storm. It was a good feeling.

Though blind, there were other things he noticed. He could hear England breathing and whispering words he couldn’t understand, could hear the soft steps of socks-wearing feet, the rustling of clothes. The sun let specks of light flicker before his eyelids until there was a shadow in front of him and warm breath against his face and body heat close to his own. His heart skipped a beat, only to race in his chest, and he had to clench his hands to keep himself from losing his calm. He couldn’t help but wonder what England was doing, surely something magical, right? But what if he weren’t, what if he were leaning forward to…

England’s hands brushed his ears and something fell around his neck and down to his chest, a small chain from the feeling of it. “You can open your eyes again.”

Prussia looked up to see England take a step backward, his cheeks just a bit pinker than usual. He was smiling for real now, the kind of proud but small smile that was only intended for yourself and yet bright enough to illuminate the room. It was a nice smile.

“It isn’t pretty but I’ve found it in the corner of the wardrobe and you can’t be too picky here. I’ve put a few of my hairs into it and enchanted the pendant to serve as a catalysator for your old memories. A lighthouse to guide you, you could say. I hope it works. I’ve been trying to get back into casting spells but…” England shrugged, biting his bottom lip in a way that was oddly mesmerising. “Well, it isn’t as easy as it once was.”

Prussia needed a few moments to realise he wasn’t talking anymore. He turned around before England could notice the blush that was surely rushing to his cheeks by now, hands fidgeting with the round pendant of his new necklace. England was right. It wasn’t pretty, had a few rough edges and a hole where a jewel might have been once, but to him, it was beautiful. If it could help him stay focused, all the better.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “Really… thank you.”

When he walked through the door, he felt lighter than he had in a long time.

~

The newspaper Prussia fetched from the mail box didn’t have an interesting headline. There was a whole six pages about the upcoming celebrations and one or two interviews with politicians speaking highly of the advantages of the association and their gratefulness towards the leader. It was pure propaganda. Though, there also was a small article, no photos, just a few lines of text, hidden in the second half of the newspaper like an afterthought, a small article warning about an escaped English prisoner who was highly dangerous and might be wandering around in the Berlin area. There was the number of the local police station attached to it.

Russia wasn’t stupid but he also wasn’t omniscient.

When Prussia returned to Germany, he earned a questionably raised brow and a dark gaze but he was still feeling good enough not to worry about it. There was nothing his brother could accuse him of. It wasn’t a crime to take his time to bring England breakfast, was it? He refused to be treated like a prisoner in his own home. The necklace hidden beneath his clothes, he felt as if it were the easiest thing in the world to fool Germany.

He grinned at him, throwing the newspaper on the table with enough energy to leave the pages in disarray.

“Everything’s working out so far. I’ve already got a call from our man at the police station… there were about a dozen calls about suspiciously behaving men already. I think it’s safe to assume Russia’s going to know about this by the end of the day. Maybe even earlier.”

“Good. I didn’t expect less, though.” Germany let his eyes wander away from him to scan the front page of the newspaper, though he didn’t reach out to open it. “How’s England doing?”

“Ah… fine, I guess,” Prussia mumbled, sitting down opposite of Germany. He shrugged. “I doubt he’d tell me if he had a problem.”

Germany looked up, eyebrows slightly raised, and Prussia hesitantly met his gaze. It was always a bit risky to do so. He could never predict what he might see there and sometimes there was bliss in ignorance. Now, though, he couldn’t read anything in his eyes at all, except perhaps mild annoyance.

“I was talking about his part in our plan,” Germany said, rolling his eyes. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, he should be prepared… Russia certainly is. If we don’t take this seriously, we might as well tell Russia not to bother with sending a message in the first place…”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long, strangled sigh, a sigh that didn’t want to belong to his words, and Prussia wasn’t quite sure what to reply. He didn’t feel as if it would be right to raise his voice, felt as if the rising silence were too thick to pierce through, and maybe he didn’t even need to.

Germany’s expression softened as he reached across the table, taking Prussia’s hand into his own, letting their fingers intertwine like branches of two closely grown trees. Thinking of England’s warning, Prussia stiffened but it wasn’t long before he lost his tension, letting himself enjoy the warmth, the gentle circles Germany was drawing with his thumb on his skin. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I hope… I hope you know I only want what’s best for you… for our people,” Germany mumbled, absent gaze directed at their interwoven hands. “I want to live in a world with you where we don’t have to be afraid of new wars and enemies and threats hiding behind every corner. That’s what I’m fighting for… sometimes… sometimes I feel like I’m deceiving myself… what if there’s no end to this?”

Prussia swallowed hard, though he couldn’t get rid of the lump in his throat. _Good question_ , he thought, licking his lips. _Though, I’m pretty sure violence isn’t the answer._ He knew he couldn’t tell Germany what he was thinking – that taking over the world and shaping it after your own ideas didn’t necessarily make it better, that sometimes you needed to listen to other voices than your own -, so he didn’t say anything at all.

“Prussia…,” Germany added after a while, his voice loud and firm enough to be alarming. “Are you happy?”

Whatever Prussia had expected, it hadn’t been this question. He tried to smile but couldn’t quite get the corners of his mouth to move, thoughts he couldn’t reach racing through his mind, his body caught in a storm. He hardly felt Germany’s hand still caressing his own.

Was he happy? No, he wasn’t. Not here, of course not, but he hadn’t been truly happy for a long time, not if he was being honest with himself. He wouldn’t have made that wish if he had been content with his life. He was supposed to be a country, though it was hard to feel like one when you couldn’t even call a land and people your own. He didn’t belong to the other countries in their old reality. Knowingly or not, they had left him behind, even his own brother who he had helped grow and prosper. A part of him knew it was only natural for the world to keep reforming itself but, still, he couldn’t help but yearn for better times.

England couldn’t possibly understand this feeling and maybe that was what made it so easy to lean into Germany’s touch, what made it so easy to lose himself in this world where he was strong and loved and powerful. Though, not happy, no, not as long as there were images of warmth and friendship in his mind, of peace between countries, and of true unity. This world was nothing but a farce, an ugly face with a beautiful mask to hide behind.

Prussia snorted, showing Germany a lopsided grin. If he focused on him, on saying empty phrases to distract himself, he was almost able to ignore the pain in his chest.

“W-why… why would you ask something like that?” He pursed his lips, giving Germany’s hand a short squeeze. “I’m happy as long as we’re together.”

~

It was a few hours later, Prussia had just finished a tiring conversation with a French general and hoped to escape his responsibilities long enough to get England the books he needed, when a soft knock at the door startled him. He pulled his appointment calendar out of the pocket of his trousers but it only confirmed what he had already known. No meetings or visitors for today.

He cast a glance at the door and pursed his lips. Had there even been a knocking in the first place? Maybe it had only been the branch of a tree tapping against a window. He turned towards the stairs just when there was a second knock, not less quiet than the first one but unmistakably done by a human hand. From a room somewhere behind him Germany’s muffled voice echoed in the entry hall. Prussia couldn’t understand what he was saying, though it didn’t seem as if he were going to finish the call anytime soon. He let out a low groan, grimacing.

He took a moment to force himself to smile before he opened the door. Though, when he saw who was behind it, the corners of his mouth sunk as if someone had cut the threats holding them, his eyes widening.

“B-belgium…?”

He gulped, scrambling for words. He almost expected her to be a hallucination, or a dream, though he didn’t wake up and she didn’t vanish either but hesitantly looked at him out of dull eyes. She didn’t look much different from the last time he had seen her. She was still wearing a blue dress, albeit without an apron, and her honey blonde hair was falling down to her chin in neatly brushed waves. The only indication of her recent injury was the grey colour of her face, the paleness of her lips, chapped as if she had been biting them, and the soft tremor running through her every now and then. Though, she was alive and that was more than Prussia had been hoping for.

“W-what…” He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?”

It had been… what? Two days? She couldn’t be already healed, could she? Not when she had been that weak before, not when she was still looking more like a ghost. 

Belgium averted her eyes, gaze darting to the floor. When she shifted from one foot to the other, a shadow of pain flashed through her face.

“I’m… I’m feeling good enough to work,” she mumbled, her voice as raspy as if she hadn’t drank a glass of water in more than a year. She didn’t sound as if she were even close to feeling good and she didn’t look like it either. She sounded as if she were constantly on the brink of crying. Prussia almost wanted to call the emergency service. “The doctor said I could go if I didn’t overexert myself for the next days and got enough sleep. I… I only need to go back in a few weeks to let them remove the stitches. P-please… I want to work again… it’s f-fine.”

Prussia lifted a hand to rub his face, though he couldn’t get rid of the itchy sensation spreading all over his skin. He couldn’t help but feel dirty, disgust pooling in his stomach and making him grimace. An awful idea ran through his mind and he took a shaky break, forcing himself to speak. He knew it had to be the truth even before he finished the question. “Did… eh, did Germany call the hospital?”

Belgium didn’t freeze but she didn’t say anything to deny it, either. When she finally nodded, it wasn’t a big motion, wouldn’t have been noticeable if Prussia hadn’t focused on it. Still, it sent another wave of anger through him.

“Fine,” he ground out, stepping to the side to let her enter. Her steps were slow, as if she had to remember how to walk every two seconds, though at least she wasn’t stumbling or wavering while crossing the distance to the dining hall. Prussia followed her, eyes beneath furrowed brows focused on her, ready to provide help if needed.

It was only when they were in the kitchen, Belgium softly panting and slumping in a chair, her eyes closed, the door shut behind them, that Prussia felt safe enough to speak again.

“Belgium,” he said, noticing how her eyes fluttered open at the mention of her name. “I don’t want you to work again. Not for at least a week, maybe more. I will talk to Germany. You deserve to fully recover… you… y-you shouldn’t have been injured in the first place…”

He shook his head, clenching his teeth. England was right. Germany was dangerous, and he wasn’t any better than his brother if he believed his words of affections were enough to excuse what he had done, what he was still doing.

“W-why…”

Her voice hadn’t been louder than a gust of wind and when Prussia turned to look at her, her lips were quivering but sealed. She didn’t seem as if she wanted to finish the question. Still, he stiffened, hands fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt as he remembered her in the dining hall, lying on the floor, a broken puppet, fingers dripping with black blood. She had tried to say something there as well, had whispered that word. _Why_.

“You… you can talk to me, you know.” He rubbed his neck and tried to chuckle. “I won’t rip your head off for asking a question.”

Belgium didn’t move. He smiled at her to reassure her but she didn’t even look at him. Prussia sighed. If she didn’t want to talk to him, there was nothing he could do to make her.

“W-why are you… n-nice… to me?” Belgium whispered, exhaling shakily. “You seem different… I was wondering why… I know it’s a silly question… you don’t need to answer it.”

Of course, she would notice _._

 _I must have been absolutely detestable before_ , Prussia thought, grimacing. When he let his hand fall back to his side, it brushed against the necklace, its chain warm, the pendant pulsating against his skin like the heart of a bird. It seemed to work and thank God it did. He made a mental note to buy England a beer if – when - they got back.

But what should he say to Belgium? It would probably be best if he laughed it off, claiming she was imagining things, or if he straight-up ignored her and left the room. She had said it herself, he didn’t need to answer the question. He really shouldn’t answer it. However, when he looked at her, noticing the sad, tired expression in her eyes, the way she seemed to have given up long ago, he paused. He didn’t want to disappoint her even more, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her.

“I… well, you’re right,” he said. “I am different… at least I hope I am. You see, I don’t really belong here… I only woke up here three or four days ago. This world, this Europe, this damnable association, uh, it’s not supposed to be like this. I’m… I’m from a future that’s different… that’s why I know it can be better… and it should be. It’s… it’s my fault it’s come to this b-but… I’m trying to make things right again. I… I’m sorry…”

He let the words echo in the silence of the room and his neck began to tingle when Belgium didn’t answer, probably too stunned to speak. Or maybe she didn’t even believe him but thought he had gone mad. He couldn’t blame her.

Letting himself fall against the wall, he couldn’t help but laugh, the sound sad and bitter and just a bit unhinged. He rubbed his eyes and let the hand linger before his face, hiding behind the palm, indulging in the comfort of blindness for a precious moment. “God, I sound crazy! This is crazy… ah, I can’t believe I’m in this situation…”

A wave of fatigue made him pull down his hand, fingers sliding down the smooth tiles of the wall, and he let out a long sigh. It was easier to laugh than to cry but it didn’t make it less exhausting.

“I should go,” he murmured, pushing himself off the wall and straightening his back.

“England… h-he… he isn’t from here either, is he?”

Prussia froze. When he looked at Belgium, she met his gaze with perhaps not quite determination but with a definite sparkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She looked more like the Belgium he had known than she had ever before.

“No.” Prussia took a deep breath. When he continued, it was as if his tongue were moving on its own, the words rolling off it as if they had always been meant to be said. “It’s my mistake, though. He’s only here because of me… and he’s worse off than I am… by far. I need to re-establish our timeline, if not for me, then for him. He doesn’t deserve to be a prisoner… to be here… I owe him, him and everyone else in our reality.”

It was only when Belgium rose, stepping closer into his field of vision, that he realised he had said those things out loud even though he had only wanted to sort out his thoughts. His cheeks began to burn, but Belgium didn’t question him, didn’t recoil from him, didn’t try to avoid his gaze.

“You can’t tell anything of this Germany,” Prussia hurried to say, eyes widening as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a shudder running through him. Dammit. Why hadn’t he thought of him earlier? “He can’t know this, do you understand me? If he asks you about me, lie, make something up, I don’t care, j-just… just don’t tell him the truth.”

He almost wanted to grab her shoulders to make her look at him, to read in her eyes that, yes, she understood, because there was nothing more important than Germany staying oblivious of his true past. Nothing.

“I won’t,” Belgium said, her eyes less dull, her cheeks not grey but almost rosy. “I believe you… a-and I want to help.”

~


	11. A Message At Midnight

**Chapter 10: A Message At Midnight**

**~**

The next time Prussia visited England was in the early morning of the next day, early enough for Germany to still be asleep. He was carrying six books in his arms and pressing a seventh one with his chin against his chest. It took a few moments until he was able to turn the key with only two fingers and no idea where to put it because of the darkness of the hallway. When the door opened with a low creak, he couldn’t help but sigh. Though, muffled by the book and his clenched teeth, it sounded more like a groan.

The books almost fell to the ground when England all but jerked him into the room, his heart skipping a beat. The door fell shut behind them and Prussia glared at England. The edges of at least three books were digging into his flesh after he had been forced to press them against his body.

“Lend me a hand, will you?” he grunted, nodding to the mess in his arms. He didn’t even dare to move a muscle, lest he might lose his grip on the books after all.

“Where’s Germany?” England asked in a low voice, warily eyeing the door as if the man in question would stride in any moment now. Though, he did hurry to take the books from Prussia, one or two at the time, until there was a small pile on the desk in the corner of the room. It was a curious sight. Half of the books looked as if they would fall apart if someone dared to open them, their bindings torn and worn-out. Most of them were in German, though there also was a single one in English.

“In the bedroom, sleeping,” Prussia said, giving his fingers a stretch, the joints cracking lightly. “We should have at least half an hour.” 

England lost some of his tension, letting out a soft sigh. When he tilted his head, their eyes meeting, something was flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Is… is it working?” He nodded to the pendant, its chain glimmering at Prussia’s neck. “How are you doing? You, uh… you don’t look as if you’ve got enough sleep last night.”

“Well…” Prussia shrugged. He let out a slow, humourless chuckle. “That might be because I didn’t sleep last night… I’m alright, though. I’ve drank two or three cups of black coffee. The necklace, yeah… as far as I can tell, it’s working, so that’s good… er, thanks for that again.”

England shot a disapproving look at him before turning around to examine the books. “You should get some sleep,” he said.

Prussia licked his lips, trying to straighten his back. His head felt heavy and fuzzy, as if it weren’t meant to be held that high, and there was a pounding at his temple. However, his heart was beating like crazy from the caffeine and he knew it would be enough to keep him running until the late afternoon at least. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

England didn’t need to know he had kept himself awake last night because he hadn’t wanted to sleep. Hadn’t dared to sleep. England’s words had been circling in his mind like a merry-go-round, a constant itch in the back of his head, only more prominent the closer the night came. If sleeping next to Germany was enough to pull him into this world’s mindset, he didn’t want to take chances. Especially when he couldn’t even wear the necklace at night without being forced to make up some awkward excuses for it. Maybe England found something in one of those books that could help them and they were gone by the end of the day. And even if they needed a little more time, he could survive a few days without sleep, no problem.

England brushed off the dust from a mostly undamaged book, thick, brown leather covering it, a pale red ribbon sticking out from its pages and working as a bookmark. Prussia noticed he was still wearing an oversized shirt, the sleeves rolled up, the fabric rustling softly whenever he moved. It didn’t look that bad. Though, maybe it was also its colour, a warm forest green, that saved the shirt from looking out of place. Or maybe it was the sun draping England in soft light, a few freckles standing out from his skin, his hair glimmering. Unmoving as he was, the sight of him curiously gazing down at the book, his slender hands holding it, could have been a painting just as well.

“Where did you get those?” England murmured, pulling Prussia out of his mind. He needed a few moments to focus, his face annoyingly hot. It had been some time but Germany’s voice echoed through his mind as if he were standing right next to him. _Do you want him, Prussia?_ He tore his eyes away from England, shaking his head slightly.

“I… er, Belgium helped me with most of them,” he said. It took more effort than it should have to keep his mind from wandering off. Perhaps it hadn’t been his best idea to refuse to sleep last night. “There’s a small library in the basement… though, library might not be the best term for it… lots and lots of books in lots and lots of boxes…”

England froze, the tips of his fingers digging into the book’s leather. “Belgium? Is she-“

“Back from the hospital? Yes,” Prussia answered. “Is she fine? Well, that depends on how you’d describe ‘being fine’. She’s alive… that’s better than what I’ve feared. I… I told her about us… where we’re really from.”

_Better get it over with as soon as possible_ , he thought. If England had a problem with it, they better handled it now. However, he shouldn’t have worried about it. England didn’t glare at him and he also didn’t try to throw punches. He was silent, an absent shadow in his eyes, looking like a man who wasn’t quite there, not in this room at least. When he spoke, his voice was a strangled murmur.

“Is… is she angry with me?”

Prussia snorted, though he could feel his heart clench. A rush of restless energy made him ball fists. “Don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself for… her being hurt. You had no choice. Germany, hell, I am more to blame for this than you!”

He wanted to laugh because it was ridiculous to even think England was anything other than a victim here. His throat was too dry to laugh, though, and he was too angry. It was another one of those moments that made you wonder if laughter really was a symbol of happiness.

“Please don’t worry about it,” he added, ignoring the urge to walk up to England, to take his hand, to shake him, if necessary, to make sure he wasn’t beating himself up about something he hadn’t had any say in. “Belgium… she… she understands. She wants to help us… she was the one who told me where to find those books.”

England sat down, letting the book rest on his knees. His head was tilted downwards and he ran a hand through his hair, making it even more wild than it already was. “Tell… tell her I’m grateful,” he mumbled. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

Prussia opened his mouth to repeat himself, to say England had nothing to be sorry for, when something made him pause. He swallowed down the words burning his tongue and the urge to roll his eyes. Sometimes emotions, what we felt and what we wanted and what we feared, didn’t make sense and that was alright. If it made England feel better about what had happened, there was no good reason not to do it. He sighed.

“I’ll tell her. No problem.”

England looked up and there was a tired veil clouding his expression that made him look much older than he was supposed to look. Though, there was also the hint of a smile on his lips. “Thank you, Prussia.”

Prussia’s heart skipped a beat and he didn’t even know why. Though, when he turned halfway around, glancing at the door, he couldn’t help but grin, warmth rushing through him like the sun’s touch in summer. “Ah… w-well, it’s nothing. You… uh, I hope the books are useful…”

A new thought made him freeze. “Today’s Sunday…”

“I know,” England muttered. He didn’t look as if he wanted to say more but Prussia couldn’t leave it at that.

“Do you know what to do? Are you fine with it?”

England exhaled slowly. His nod was almost unnoticeable. “If Russia really sends a message, I’m prepared. I think… I should be able to fool him…”

There was silence until Prussia cleared his throat. “I guess I have to wake up Germany now… I can’t say when we can talk privately again but, uh, until then.”

England, already immersed in the book and mouthing the words as he went over them, didn’t reply. It was only when Prussia stepped over the threshold that the soft echo of his voice followed him to the hallway.

“I look forward to it.”

~

Russia did send a message and it was sent at midnight on the first Sunday in August.

They drove to a nearby radio station, the building secluded and surrounded by a small forest. It had been shut down a few years ago and since then was used for military purposes, albeit not often. It wasn’t usually used for delicate operations such as this one and didn’t have the newest technology but that also meant it was easier to stay undetected. Prussia was supposed to be on his way to southern France to attend a meeting and Germany was supposed to be in central Berlin, trying to catch their lost prisoner. Hungary had called around noon, furiously demanding to know if they really had let England escape, and Prussia had reassured her they already knew where he was and were only waiting for the right time to corner him. Everything went according to plan.

Prussia was drinking his sixth cup of coffee. The fingers of his left hand were already trembling every now and then and his body was both heavy and restless, urging him to go for a run he knew he would just throw up from.

England was staring at the speaker in front of them as if it would soon burst into flames. His face was pale and tense but it was difficult to tell beneath the dim light of the room. Germany seemed to be the most composed of them, though even he displayed a hint of nervousness, his lips pressed into a tight line.

Prussia couldn’t tell how much time he spent sitting on the hard surface of his wooden chair, legs cramping and ears ringing from the constant crackling noise filling the room ever since they had set the frequency Russia had mentioned in his letter. If it really was a frequency. He knew they had arrived around 11 pm, so it couldn’t have been much longer than an hour, though his fatigue-ridden mind made him believe it could have been five hours just as well. He had tried to make a joke once but Germany had quickly shushed him with a dark look and he hadn’t tried to speak again afterwards.

He had enough time to think about what Russia, a Russia he didn’t really know, might say that he could almost hear his voice already, the odd accent, the childish glee often found in it, the suppressed sadness and anger he remembered from the latter half of the 20th century. It was almost a shock when his voice wasn’t the silent shadow of his memories anymore, but a real sound, drowning out the static and echoing through the room. It was enough to make him flinch.

“It is the 7th August of 1955… I am talking again.” A small sigh made the air vibrate, then silence. It was a long pause, almost long enough for Prussia to believe there wouldn’t be any more words, almost long enough for him to believe the spoken words had been said by a ghost instead. When he continued, Russia’s voice sounded just as exhausted as it had sounded at first, but there was a new strength in the hard, loud syllables, spoken with an audible effort, with the hope to be heard.

“Listen carefully… I won’t repeat myself. Animated with the desire of re-establishing the ancient relations of friendship and good understanding between us, I ask you this question: Where were you in August 1807? You have ten minutes. Answer me… and meet me the day after tomorrow.”

The sound of the static grew loud again, a constant clattering like an approaching herd of wild horses. The noise seemed to seep into his brain, made his head ache, and when Prussia reached out to shut it off, he was clenching his teeth as if trying to grind them to dust. His heart was beating faster than usual, but perhaps that was only because of the coffee.

Russia didn’t want to make it easy for them. Prussia couldn’t deny he had hoped for something along the lines of _Meet me tomorrow at 10 am in Berlin. The_ Wilhelm Hoeck _has great beer!_ Though, he couldn’t say he was surprised to hear another riddle.

He furrowed his brows. 1807… wasn’t a year he liked to remember. The defeat at the hands of France’s Napoleon had led to a loss of power he had never been truly able to recover from. It was smart of Russia to ask about this year. Prussia, dealing with his own losses, hadn’t kept up with whatever England had been doing at the time and Germany hadn’t even existed back then. Even if they were listening as well, there was only a small chance they would know what Russia was talking about. They needed England. A glance at Germany and his narrowed eyes, the hard line of his jaw, told Prussia he was probably thinking the same. 

“What is he talking about, England?” his brother demanded to know. “Where are you supposed to meet him?”

“For God’s sake… give me time to think about it,” England mumbled, crossing his arms. However, he refrained from uttering any more words of annoyance, instead looking down at the table in front of him, his fingers absentmindedly creeping over its surface, following the wooden marks with small movements. His face was almost as white as the moon visible through the window and there was a sweaty gleam covering his temples. It was only after he let out a long, strangled sigh that he spoke again. He hadn’t needed more than three minutes.

“Russia’s talking about the Battle of Copenhagen… the second one, if I’m not mistaken,” he said. “I won.”

“Denmark?” Germany raised a brow. “That’s quite far from home for Russia. How surprising. Are you sure about it?”

“I can’t think of another possibility, so yes. I am certain.” England looked up, the left side of his face a mess of green and yellow, though he didn’t seem to care about it anymore. _Maybe because he doesn’t have to look at it_ , Prussia mused, withstanding the urge to avert his eyes. He hoped the bruise wouldn’t take much longer to heal. He didn’t like to be constantly reminded of his own failures.

“Prussia, does it seem plausible to you?”

Prussia stiffened, slowly turning his head to look at his brother. “I think… yeah, it should fit. France was pretty strong back then and Denmark was his ally. You know how England is… he just can’t cut him some slack.”

Germany didn’t smile but he wasn’t frowning anymore when he nodded. “All right. England… you know your task. Go ahead.”

It was ten minutes after midnight when England sent a message himself.

“In August 1807, I was fighting the Danish navy… in a battle known as the Battle of Copenhagen from the 18th July of 1812 onward. I… look forward to our meeting. Be reassured, I will put my utmost effort into making it possible and staying safe. Please do the same. Until then.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(Second) Battle of Copenhagen, (15 August–7 September 1807):** An engagement in the Napoleonic Wars. Fearful that Napoleon’s defeat of Russia and Prussia might lead to French control of Baltic fleets, Britain acted ruthlessly to neutralize the substantial Danish navy allied with Napoleon. The Danish fleet surrendered to Britain after Copenhagen was bombarded.  
> ([Source](https://www.britannica.com/event/Battle-of-Copenhagen-1807))
> 
> *There really is a (125 years old) bar called ([Wilhelm Hoeck](http://wilhelm-hoeck.de/kneipe/)) in Berlin ;) 
> 
> **If anyone wants to read how Prussia experienced the year 1807: ([Source](Treaties_of_Tilsit))


	12. Peace, Union, And Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have time tomorrow, so I post this chapter a day earlier than usual :P

**Chapter 11: Peace, Union, And Friendship**

**~**

Prussia stared at the dark grey bedroom’s ceiling. Every now and then his fluttering eyelids fell shut and he didn’t notice the embracing darkness until after a few long moments. When he did notice, however, he froze, tore his eyes open, and clutched the blanket with sweaty, trembling hands. The sky had already faded into a shade of blue when he jolted awake once more, gasping, then pressing a hand against his mouth to keep any more sounds from escaping.

He glanced at Germany, at the tousled strands of hair hiding parts of his face, at the peaceful expression that reminded him of better times. _I’m still myself_ , Prussia thought, though he didn’t avert his eyes. He kept looking and he kept breathing and when he dared to let his hand sink to the mattress again, his heartbeat was calm. He didn’t want to sleep anyway, who was he trying to fool?

Rising as carefully as possible, Prussia grabbed his shirt and trousers and dressed himself as quietly as he could. It was a relief to grab England’s necklace from under the bed and to put it around his neck. He smiled when he could feel the familiar warmth pulsating against his chest, hidden beneath the folds of his clothing. Hadn’t England mentioned he was feeling out of touch with magic? Well, he certainly seemed to have returned to old forms.

Still, when Prussia found himself looking at Germany again, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were struggling not to drown. He could easily differentiate between his old memories and those new memories not really experienced by himself, thanks to England’s magic. It was like flipping through a photo album, the quality of the pictures lacking but distinct enough. Though, it wasn’t like that with his feelings. His feelings were like one big storm, raging through him with lightning speed and threatening to swallow him whenever he wasn’t focused. He still wanted to kiss Germany and he still liked to be kissed by him even though his mind tried to argue against it. He had hoped it would change with time but it hadn’t and a part of him wondered if it ever would, if it hadn’t always been this way, if he hadn’t just suppressed something that was now breaking free. It was scary.

When he slipped out of the room, walking to England’s room with hurrying but careful steps, his body felt heavy, as if there were chains clinging to his ankles. He entered the room and found darkness. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that England was sleeping but Prussia couldn’t help but pause, one foot on the threshold. It didn’t feel right to be here, as if he were intruding something much more intimate than a simple period of sleep. Though, he couldn’t leave either, could he? They wouldn’t have much time to talk during the day as Germany would surely want to discuss the next steps of their plan, but the night could still be theirs.

Swallowing hard, Prussia closed the door behind himself and hesitantly walked up to the bed. The closer he came, the more he noticed the calm, deep breathing originating from the curled up ball of blankets in the middle of the mattress. Even standing next to it, he could only make out the beginnings of England’s hair glimmering in the moon light. Despite his exhaustion and overall less than ideal mood, Prussia felt a grin tugging at his lips.

“England?” he asked, tensing up. When nothing changed, he sighed and leaned over him to shake what he assumed was England’s shoulder. The change came immediately. There was a gasp, a moving mass of fabric, and a sharp blow against his still out-stretched hand that made him wince and recoil.

“What the bloody hell-?!”

“You didn’t have to hit me!”

“Prussia?!” England managed to free himself from the blankets’ grip and the look in his widened eyes was murderous. “What the heck are you doing here?! Did you fail to notice I was sleeping as every normal person should at this godforsaken time?”

“Er…” Prussia pursed his lips, absentmindedly rubbing his aching fingers. “Germany probably finds a way to keep me occupied the whole day, so… I thought now would be a good time to talk…”

England was silently glaring at him. A part of Prussia couldn’t help but notice how green his eyes were, still, green enough to be the only specks of colour in the night’s embrace. It wasn’t the dull, muddy colour many liked to call green, but a rare shade reminiscent of spring and meadows and leaves gently swaying in the wind.

“You have really nice eyes, you know,” he said before he could stop himself. It wasn’t long before he felt heat rushing to his face as if he had jumped into a fiery pit. _Perhaps jumping into a fiery pit wouldn’t be such a bad idea_ , he thought, grimacing. Why the fuck had he said that out loud?

The good thing was England wasn’t glaring at him anymore. The bad thing was… well, everything else. England might not be glaring at him anymore but Prussia couldn’t decide if this expression of utter bewilderment was better or worse. He looked away and pressed a hand against his lips to keep other bad ideas from taking over his mouth.

“Ah, j-just forget that, alright?” he ground out, voice muffled and croaky. “I didn’t sleep for two days… no wonder I’m beginning to talk nonsense now, ha!”

He snorted lamely. England sighed.

“W-well, I can’t go back to sleep now anyway… just give me a moment to get dressed. And don’t turn around.”

Prussia rolled his eyes. “Like I’d want to…”

However, when he heard the soft rustling of blankets being pulled aside and the creaking of the wardrobe doors being opened, he had to correct himself. He very much wanted to turn around. He could feel it in the tingling of his neck, in the way his heart was dancing in his chest, in the way he had to constantly remind himself not to tilt his head just enough to cast a small glance. He tried to remember if England had been shirtless a moment ago but there were only green eyes in his memory and he cursed himself that he hadn’t been paying more attention. He clenched his teeth, old words and images ghosting through his mind.

 _Damn you, Germany_ , he thought. He didn’t want to think about England like that and now it was hard not to think about him like that. He knew there were just a few steps separating them, he could touch him if he just turned around and reached out, if he gave in to this magnetic pull and let himself breathe again. He was still struggling with those thoughts when England spoke again.

“You can turn around now.”

Prussia let the breath he had held out of lungs. It felt good to move again but when he was facing England, he didn’t quite dare to meet his eyes. Looking at his cheeks instead, he noticed they were slightly darker than before, though it was hard to tell with the lack of light.

“Prussia… you know, uh, when I was reading the books I was thinking a-and…” England’s lips fell shut. They were still moving, though, as if there were words waiting to break free just behind them. As if they had to be violently held back. Prussia noticed England had begun to fidget with the overlong edge of his shirt and when he brought up the courage to really look at his face, there was a pained frown.

Prussia tensed up. He knew whatever England was about to say couldn’t be good. However, he also knew he would have to hear it. “Go on… just tell me already.”

“Fine.” England exhaled slowly. “W-well, I realised you’ve never told me what exactly it was that you’ve wished for.”

Prussia’s eyes widened. When he tried to speak, his mouth was too dry to do so and he had to gulp down a few times. There were goosebumps dancing over his skin and a shiver like icy water running down his back. He crossed his arms. “Well, maybe that’s because I didn’t want to tell you.”

Prussia almost didn’t recognise his own voice. Why was it this biting, this cold? He grimaced. Why did England have to ask this question when there were so many other things they could discuss for fuck’s sake?

Still.. wasn’t he being mean? Didn’t England deserve to know? What if it could help them return? Prussia grimaced. When he continued, the words were like rusting nails on his tongue, the taste impossible to get rid of.

“If you really need to know…,” he grumbled. “I wanted to be a, w-well, a real nation again…”

England didn’t say anything. He was only staring at him as if Prussia were a stranger he had never seen before, as if he didn’t quite know how to approach him. It was uncomfortable and Prussia wanted to take his words back, cursed himself for being honest. Why hadn’t he made something up?

“As you can probably tell… my wish came true,” he said without a hint of happiness. He almost wished he had just stayed in the bedroom. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, those weren’t feelings he wanted to have.

“I’m sorry,” England whispered. “I… I didn’t know… you…“

Prussia snorted, a jolt of anger running through him. “Why should you? You live your life on your rainy little island drinking tea and complaining about America or the EU and watching Sherlock or Doctor Who or whatever show is on. Why should I even cross your mind? Prussia doesn’t exist anymore. I shouldn’t exist anymore! I usually don’t even go to those damned world conferences and I damn well should’ve just stayed home for the last as well!”

He didn’t notice he had raised his arms until England stood in front of him and gently pulled them down again. His breathing had transformed into ragged huffs and his heart was galloping in his chest as if trying to break through his ribs. He was glaring at the pieces of floor visible next to their feet because he couldn’t look at England and he was clenching his teeth because he didn’t want to speak and maybe also because he knew this burning of his eyes too well and he wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t.

England didn’t let go of his wrists. His fingers were warm, if slightly trembling. When Prussia found the strength to let his gaze wander upwards again, following the trail of buttons of England’s shirt, he felt tired, as if the fire residing in him had burned down to a few last coals. His eyes were still narrowed when he met England’s and he wanted to stay angry but he couldn’t.

The night was fading and England was standing close enough to him that he could make out a few freckles on his nose. When Prussia let out a shaky breath, it was too loud in the air. He noticed how it was too hot as well, he noticed how warm England’s breath was against his cheek. There was tension in the room screaming for something to happen, for them to let go of each other, to step away. It didn’t happen and Prussia wondered if England wanted to hug him as if he were a child in need of solace. He wondered if it would be all right to kiss him.

“I lied to Germany,” England said and let go of his arms and it was like cutting the rope Prussia was balancing on.

“W-what…?” Only his surprise kept him from screaming the word. “Are you crazy?!”

“W-well, I also told him the truth… mostly.” England made a step backward, his cheeks painted a soft pink. “You see, I wasn’t lying when I said I was fighting the Battle of Copenhagen in 1807… but Denmark isn’t where Russia wants to meet me. It might seem so, yes, but it struck me as odd that Russia would say something about a desire to re-establish ancient relations of friendship. I thought about it and I remembered I know the sentence… I know it because it’s part of a treaty we both signed in 1812. The _Treaty of Peace, Union, and Friendship, between His Britannic Majesty and the Emperor of all the Russias…_ it put an end to a, uh, phase of hostilities after Russia’s Emperor declared war on my country in the wake of the aforementioned battle.”

England straightened his back. “In my reply to Russia I mentioned a date… the 18th July 1812. It doesn’t have anything to do with Copenhagen. It’s the day we signed the treaty… in Orebro, Sweden. That’s where Russia wants to meet me… and we should be there to talk to him.”

Prussia’s mind spun like a merry-go-round. It was only after a few moments that he managed to move his lips.

“Are you kidding me?!” He grimaced. “Have you gone mad?! What were you thinking?! You fooled my brother, congratulations, do you want a medal?! Damn. We can’t just tell Germany we want to make a short drive to Sweden for the fun of it, I feel ridiculous just saying it here in front of you.”

“Calm down,” England muttered. “I know it won’t be that easy but Russia might be able to help us. You probably aren’t aware of it but he has some kind of… magical affinity, I’d say. Not that he’d ever call it like that. He doesn’t cast spells or consciously differentiates between our and the other world. I even doubt he’s aware of it himself. After reading the books I’m convinced… I don’t know the magic that’s binding us to this place. However, he might. There are a lot of dark spirits in Siberia and lone travellers have far more need of protective and reversing magic than English farmers have. We have to talk to Russia about this… before it’s too late.”

Prussia lifted a hand to rub his face. He pressed his eyes close because maybe he could pretend this was just a bizarre dream, if only for a minute. He let out a groan. “Alright. Fine. What do you suggest we do?”

“Germany probably wants to drive with us to Copenhagen today to prepare for the supposed meeting. We need about six hours from Copenhagen to Orebro. I’d add two hours for the meeting itself and another six hours back to Denmark. We’d be gone for… uh, fourteen hours...”

England went quiet in the end and Prussia couldn’t blame him. He sneered. “Ah, great, fourteen hours… I don’t know why I even complained. Germany totally won’t get suspicious if we’re away for fourteen fucking hours on the day we’re supposed to meet Russia.”

“Do you have a better idea?” England pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “I’d be glad to hear it.”

Prussia allowed himself a few moments to think about it and smiled. “Easy. I go by myself. I make up an excuse to Germany to return to Berlin when we’re in Copenhagen and instead drive to Sweden, meet Russia, ask him whatever you want to know, drive back, and nobody gets killed.”

England’s expression darkened. “You forget the part where Russia thinks you’re his enemy and not only doesn’t talk to you but probably has worse things in mind for you as well. No.”

“Well, if we can’t go together and you can’t go because you’re supposed to meet Russia in Copenhagen, there’s only this one possibility left. I go by myself, it’s the best option we have.”

Prussia took a deep breath, lowered his voice, tried to let go of the all too familiar anxiety that never strayed far away from him in this place. He gave England a confident grin. “I’m sure I can convince Russia to believe me. I’ll just tell him the truth, that we don’t want to be here, that we need his help… and if things go south, I make something up. I’m great at making things up as I go.”

England didn’t look convinced. His jaw was working and his eyes were squinted as if he were trying to see something that didn’t exist. Still, he stayed silent for a long time and Prussia knew it was because he was right. England just didn’t want to admit it.

“Fine!” England growled after another three or so minutes. “However, I give you a letter for Russia explaining everything. He should know my handwriting. And you better have a good excuse to tell Germany because I don’t want to be the centre of his anger even before he realises we won’t be meeting Russia in Copenhagen.”

Prussia grinned. “Don’t worry. I have a good feeling about this.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On 26 October 1807, Emperor of All Russia Alexander formally declared war on the United Kingdom after the British attack on Copenhagen in September 1807.
> 
> The Treaties of Örebro (the full names being the Treaty of Peace, Union, and Friendship, between His Britannic Majesty and the Emperor of all the Russias and the Treaty of Peace, Union, and Friendship, between His Britannic Majesty and the King of Sweden) were both signed on the same day, 18 July 1812, in Örebro, Sweden. They formally end the Anglo-Russian War (1807–1812) and the Anglo-Swedish War (1810–1812).
> 
> [Sources: [Anglo-Russian War (1807-1812)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anglo-Russian_War_\(1807-1812\)),  
> [Treaty of Örebro](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Treaty_of_%C3%96rebro)]


	13. Copenhagen

**Chapter 12: Copenhagen**

**~**

After Prussia had spent the days either in the mansion or at military bases, with only Germany, England, soldiers, and politicians to talk to, it was almost a shock to see ordinary people gathering in the streets of Copenhagen. He hadn’t realised how isolated he had been since he had woken up, that there was a world beyond the high, decorated walls of the mansion. Being here was like seeing new colours. He might not like this reality but there were people living in it, innocent, oblivious people who just wanted to live their life to the fullest.

Looking out of the window of the car, he could see children playing in the parks, mothers and fathers closely watching them with smiles in their faces. He could see young women with ice cream and the newest magazine in their hands. He could see business men wearing suits and stern expressions hurrying to their next appointment. They didn’t look miserable or depressed or scared. They were normal people going about their days and not thinking twice about an event long past. Many of them wouldn’t have looked out of place in the 21. century.

After meeting Belgium and hearing about France’s attempts at resistance, it had been easy to believe the people of Europe were suffering because of the German Empire and its allies and many were, yes. However, most of them must have gotten used to the new circumstances by now, Prussia realised, and some might not have been that averse to them in the first place. Denmark had been neutral in the war and had soon agreed to support the Empire after their victory. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

Still, some things were sticking out of the vibrant summer idyll like a sore thumb. There were a few garlands in the colours of the Empire fluttering in the air and the headlines of the newspapers visible in the windows of kiosks and shops were just as sickly sweet and exaggerated as before, sold in both German and Danish. You could make out soldiers in every corner of the city. There weren’t many but there were enough to give Prussia a feeling of uneasiness even though he knew they were on their side. It didn’t feel right.

When they arrived at the small hotel, the sky was tinted a dark blue, the last reds and oranges of the sunset mixed in between. Prussia felt tired and utterly exhausted. He had dozed off during the drive more than once. He couldn’t remember anything from the time on the ferry, except from a lingering taste of salt and maybe the curious dream of diving through a yellow cave stuffed with emeralds he had had. Still, that could hardly count as properly sleeping.

When Germany went to check them in, he couldn’t help but lean against the wall and close his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. England had to nudge him with his elbow to keep him from dozing off all over again and Prussia jumped as if he had heard a gunshot.

“I wonder how you imagine driving on your own in this condition,” England hissed, warily eyeing Germany’s back. His brows were furrowed and there was a crinkle in his forehead that didn’t look as if it would go away anytime soon. “I hope you’re planning to get a healthy amount of sleep tonight... I have to trust you with this. Please don’t mess it up, Prussia.”

Prussia let out a small chuckle. “Are you worried about me?”

England glared at him. “As a matter of fact… yes, I am. You haven’t properly slept for two days, of course I’m worried. You… you don’t look too well…”

He sighed and raised his hand, letting its knuckles brush against Prussia’s forehead. His fingers were surprisingly cool, as if he had dunked them into a bucket of snow only a moment ago, and Prussia stiffened.

England pulled his hand away as if he had burned himself, stepped away and glanced at the woman at the reception who was giving Germany the room keys. When he spoke again, his voice was almost too low to understand.

“You look ill. Your temperature seems to be unnaturally high as well. If I didn’t know better… I’d say you’ve got a fever.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Prussia muttered, frowning. He couldn’t have a fever. Countries didn’t get ill, not if their people were doing well and they were. Germany seemed to be doing just fine. England had to be imagining things.

He had almost convinced himself when a flame reached through his ribs, a pain whipping through him as if someone had thrown a burning match into his lungs and had found petrol. It went as suddenly as it came, but it left him wide-eyed and nauseous and shaking all over. He pressed a hand against his chest to calm his racing heart.

It was only then that he realised what the reason for the pain must have been. The pendant of England’s necklace was blazing hot, as if it had been thrown into a fire and pulled out again. He could feel the radiating heat even through the fabric of his shirt and it didn’t take long until he noticed how hot the skin below it felt, how drops of sweat were running all over his body. He took a shaky breath.

“E-England…” He swallowed hard. “I think something’s wrong w-with… eh, with your necklace… it’s not supposed to be, uh, scorching hot, r-right?”

England’s face went white, an expression of horror rushing through his eyes, his pupils widening enough to almost swallow his irises entirely. He mouthed a word that looked suspiciously like a curse. He reached for Prussia’s arm, his grip vicelike, strong enough to make him wince, and immediately began to whisper incomprehensible words.

Germany turned around to approach them in the same moment that England let go of his arm. Prussia had the strange sensation of walking through a rain shower. He had to withstand the urge to look for water sprinklers on the ceiling or to brush away the invisible rain drops on his cheeks and forehead. When the sensation faded, it left him feeling cold, as if he had spent a day hiking in the Bavarian Alps. Still, better that than the fiery heat from before.

“Are you well, Prussia?” Germany asked when he came to a halt in front of them and Prussia had to keep himself from throwing his hands up in the air. He couldn’t be looking that bad, could he? He rolled his eyes.

“I’m good.” He shrugged. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any more remarks about his health.

“Well, it’s still early, we’ve got a good head start, and there might be something to celebrate soon.” Germany raised his brows, the hint of a smile in his face. “I feel like I could do with a drink at the bar. What about you?”

“You want to drink a beer with me?!”

Prussia couldn’t believe his ears. Hadn’t Germany yelled at him just three days ago that there was nothing more important than getting Russia? Still, he couldn’t help the grin that spread over his lips at the mere mention of a bar. Not only drinking a beer but also drinking a beer with his brother, what a glorious day! He tried to remember when they had last gone out to drink and failed. That was also when he realised that this wasn’t really his Germany, that he didn’t really want to be at this place, with or without beer. That there was nothing worthy of celebration about this situation.

“Of course,” Germany said as if he couldn’t believe Prussia had to ask the question. “Though, we probably shouldn’t overdo it… we have a long day tomorrow…”

He cleared his throat. “Well, what do you say?”

Prussia knew he should say no. He was already tired and he couldn’t risk getting wasted and England was probably glaring holes into his back and he would regret it, surely. Still, when he opened his mouth, those doubts were small and blurry and far away and it was like looking at houses and fields from the window of a plane. They were all too easy to ignore.

“You know, you’ve asked me… so you’re paying.” Prussia grinned. “But don’t worry, I’ll try not to leave you in debt.”

Germany smiled and, damn, he was really beautiful when he smiled. Prussia felt a pleasant shiver running down his spine, warmth swelling inside him. What did it matter if he went drinking with Germany? It was just for the evening. England couldn’t blame him for wanting to relax a bit. Maybe he would even be able to sleep afterwards, who knew?

“England-,” Germany began but England interrupted him before he could finish the sentence.

“Let me guess,” he muttered in a tired voice. “I’ll get locked into one of those fine rooms because you still can’t trust me?”

“Actually, no.” Germany raised a brow. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to join us. You like beer, don’t you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Prussia could see England lose his mask, confused surprise drawn all over his face. He caught himself after a moment or two, though, and narrowed his eyes, almost as if he were angrier about the idea of drinking a beer than about the prospect of spending the rest of the evening locked into a room.

“I do,” England mumbled in a strangled voice.

It felt unreal when they ended up sitting at a table together, waiting to get their drinks, England seated on the bench at the wall, Germany and Prussia on the chairs opposite of him. It was even stranger to think of the circumstances that had brought them together, of the less than pleasant events of the past days. Prussia couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t succumbed to sleep after all and was now dreaming.

He cast a glance at Germany, licking his lips. _I wanted to ask if you’d like to join us_ … he couldn’t have used those words intentionally, right? It was just Prussia’s mind that wanted to jump to the wrong conclusions. The words had been innocent enough on their own. There was absolutely no need to worry about problems that didn’t even exist. There was even less need to get excited about a prospect he should hate.

When Germany asked him something, he spent a long moment staring at him, fighting his way out of his mind and back into reality, until he managed to utter a reply. It took him even longer to relax but sometime after his second beer the pleasant lightness of alcohol took over his body and pushed his doubts at the edge of his mind. He laughed and drank and grinned and sometimes could even forget where he was, what they were here to do.

England didn’t seem to be able to forget that easily. He was still drinking his first beer, a mild ale, if the small sips he was taking could even count as drinking, and his fingers were clutching the jug as if he wanted to break the glass.

“Relax, England,” Germany said after a while, a soft pink shine on his cheeks. “We’re on the same side now. You can’t drink a beer with an expression like that, that’s an insult to the craft.”

If possible, England’s eyes narrowed even more. However, it seemed as if he made an effort to change his expression because he took a deep breath and let go of the jug to stretch his hand.

“Old habits die hard,” he murmured, still tense, but less tense than before. “Besides, I’m nervous about tomorrow.”

Germany downed what was left of his beer and shrugged. “Understandable. I’d be worried if you weren’t. If something went wrong, it would be hard not to blame you.”

Prussia was glad he was busy drinking, his face hidden behind the jug, because otherwise Germany might have noticed the grimace he was making. His words made him wonder if it was such a good idea to leave England alone with his brother after all. Though, they couldn’t change their plan anymore, could they? They had to go through with it, for better or for worse.

~

It was past midnight when they arrived back at their hotel room. Prussia didn’t like that there was only one of them, though at least they didn’t have to share a bed but were able to sleep in a single one each. Despite Germany’s words, Prussia was sure it was because he didn’t really trust England and wanted to keep an eye on him. It was also easier to fly under the radar if they didn’t have to run across the hotel and risk getting recognised every time they wanted to meet.

England disappeared into his bed as soon as they entered the room, probably to catch up on the sleep he hadn’t gotten last night. Prussia waited until after Germany had brushed his teeth and had slipped out of his shirt and trousers before he went to the bathroom himself. He waited a few seconds to make sure no one would barge in before he took off his shirt with hasty movements.

When he lifted the necklace from his chest to put it next to the sink, it seemed to be heavier than usual, though not burning hot at least. Still, it was more than scary to see the glaringly red spot, shaped just like the pendant, a horrible contrast to his pale skin, in the middle of his chest. When he let his fingers brush against the skin, it felt dry and chapped, almost like a burn wound. A cold shiver ran down his back and he gulped.

He didn’t have to be a wizard to know what was happening. He was rejecting England’s magic, just like a fatally ill man rejecting a kidney that didn’t fit his body. The part of him that felt like he belonged to this world, the magic binding him to it, was strong enough to work against the pendant. They were fighting and the necklace was losing, there was no other explanation. England might have been able to put a halt to this fight with his most recent spell but Prussia could feel it wavering already. He knew the necklace wouldn’t be able to protect him much longer and without it, it was just a question of time until he would forget everything about his old self.

“Damnit,” he muttered under his breath, balling fists to keep his hands from shaking. He already knew what it felt like to lose himself and he had no desire to repeat the experience. His stomach twisted. How much time did they have left? What if Russia wasn’t able to help them? What if there wasn’t anything else they could try?

When the door opened with a soft creaking noise, Prussia only had time to grab the necklace and put it back on to hide the ugly mark. He turned around, heart pounding in his ears, eyes widened. He was glad he had reacted that way because Germany was standing right there on the threshold, looking at him.

“What are you doing?”

His voice was quiet but in the silence of the room it was just loud enough. When Germany crossed the distance between them, Prussia longingly eyed the row of beds visible through the half-opened door. This wasn’t a good time for a conversation, especially not one between them.

Stopping in front of him, Germany raised a brow. “Why are you wearing that?”

He reached out a hand towards the pendant but Prussia caught his hand before it could touch the metal. It was only when he saw Germany frown that he realised he probably shouldn’t be clutching his wrist as if he were trying to crush it. Still, it took more effort than it should have to pull his hand away. He let out a quiet snort.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, averting his eyes. “Didn’t mean to…”

When he tried to walk past Germany and to the door, he didn’t manage more than one and a half step before a hand caught his shoulder and his heart skipped a beat. He didn’t move when the hand wandered across his chest, embracing him, pressing him against the body behind him. A shiver ran down his spine when he could feel warm breath, lips ghosting over the nape of his neck, strands of hair tickling his earlobe. He felt dizzy.

“We should go to sleep. I’m… I’m tired,” Prussia managed to whisper to his own surprise. The necklace was trembling with each of his or Germany’s movements, small as they might be, and he knew it was only a question of time until Germany would discover the wound.

“You appear very awake to me.” The hand moved upwards, brushing against his Adam’s apple, fingers pressing into the hollow of his throat. Prussia clenched his teeth, unable to breathe. “Look, your pulse is racing.”

Prussia knew it shouldn’t be so hard to move but he couldn’t help but be glued to the spot, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, all too aware of the body heat enclosing him, all too aware of the tingling sparks running through him. It took a lot of effort to shrug off Germany’s arm, to make a step forward.

However, even as he did so, he could feel Germany move with him, could feel the nudge against his upper arm that made him turn around, that made him face his brother, and then there were familiar lips pressing against his own. They were warm and soft and just perfectly shaped to fit his own, how couldn’t he enjoy the kiss? How couldn’t he yearn for more? Still, it was wrong, it was unfair, it was horribly, horribly selfish, and Prussia tried to keep those thoughts in his mind when he pulled away.

“W-we’re… we’re not doing anything like that here,” he muttered with all the strength he could gather. “It’s too late and… England’s here as well.”

The light of the moon coming in through the window was enough for him to see Germany raise a brow, a smirk dancing around the corners of his mouth. “So what? Let him hear us, I don’t care.”

Germany leaned forward again but Prussia pressed a hand against his lips only moments before they would have brushed against his own. The warm breath against his palm made him shudder, fingers trembling slightly, but he didn’t let himself give in. Not here, not now, not again.

“W-well… I do,” he ground out, mouth dry enough to taste iron. Germany stared at him out of heavy-lidded eyes, something sparkling in its depths, and meeting his gaze was almost enough for Prussia to lose the order of his thoughts, to plunge himself into the chaos that were his feelings. He took a shaky breath, the sound loud in the air.

“We’re not doing that,” he repeated in a low voice, if only to convince himself. When he stepped away, letting go of Germany’s chin, his hand was tingling and he could still feel his lips ghosting over his skin. It was hard, so very hard not to give in, and a part of Prussia feared it needed only a small push, a second kiss, a gentle touch, to make him jump right off the cliff all over again.

Fortunately, Germany didn’t try to lean in again. He merely tilted his head, gazing down at Prussia as if he were the newest specimen of an interesting museum exhibition.

“All right,” he murmured. “We do have to get some sleep. Still…”

The corners of his mouth lifted to the smallest hint of a smile. “You like the idea, don’t you? England in the room next to us, wondering, then realising what we’re doing, listening to us moaning and gasping and getting all worked up about it, unable to sleep. Maybe trying to catch a glimpse… maybe wanting to be there, too, with us. You’d like that, don’t you?”

Prussia was clenching his hands, desperately trying to ignore the heat coiling in his abdomen, trying to ignore the shivers dancing all over his body, trying to ignore the arousal making his cock twitch. He opened his mouth to lie and couldn’t do it. He let out a low growl, averting his eyes. He turned towards the door and began to walk, only pausing for the smallest moment when he was standing next to Germany, speaking as quietly as he could.

“Yes,” he hissed. “You’re right. Are you happy now? Doesn’t mean I’d do it.”

When Prussia left the bathroom, Germany’s small chuckle was following him.

“I am. I’m glad you aren’t lying.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [It's always so funny for me to write a bar scene because I just hate beer :') But I know I'm part of the minority with that thought...]


	14. An Old Enemy II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to finish uploading this story this year, so expect a new chapter every other day from now on :P
> 
> [Picture of Orebro Castle ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%96rebro_Castle#/media/File:%C3%96rebro_slott_May_2014_01.jpg)

**Chapter 13: An Old Enemy II**

**~**

“We’ve got a problem. I got a call from a soldier stationed at our house,” Prussia said. “Belgium’s gone.”

Germany froze, the bottom half of the buttons of his shirt closed, the top half still fluttering loosely around his shoulders. When he looked up, his eyes were narrowed and his jaw was working.

“What did you say?” he growled in a cold voice.

“Belgium,” Prussia repeated, trying not to let the nervousness show that was clinging to him with an iron grip. He wanted to speak fast, wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, though he knew he had to be believable as well. “She isn’t in the mansion anymore. They don’t know where she is… or why she’s gone.”

Germany let go of his shirt to stride up to him, hands balled into trembling fists at his side. “This isn’t a good time to make jokes, Prussia!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. As if I’d be joking about this!”

Prussia rolled his eyes and went down to his knees to tie his boots, glad he didn’t have to look at Germany to do so. The longer this conversation would go, the more time Germany would get to observe him and the riskier this whole situation would get. If Germany got angry, good. It meant he wouldn’t be thinking clearly. It meant it would be easier to fool him.

“I only know what they’ve told me. I don’t like it any more than you do. Listen, I have to go back to deal with the situation. I’ll take the car. If I hurry, I can be back here in the evening.”

Germany didn’t say anything and somehow the silence was worse than being yelled at. Prussia could feel his neck tingling when he rose, grabbing a charcoal coat from the suitcase. The sun had barely begun to travel across the sky and the wind blowing through the opened window was cool. Besides, he knew it would be even colder where he intended to go. He was on his way to the door, slipping into the coat while walking, when a hand curled around his wrist, making him stop.

He turned around before he could stop himself and met Germany’s gaze, his eyes a raging storm, a vein at his temple visibly pulsating. He looked as if he wouldn’t have minded punching something, or someone, and Prussia swallowed hard. 

“What the hell’s going on with you?!” Germany snarled. “We’ve practically got Russia presented to us as a gift and you want to go back to Berlin for Belgium?!”

Prussia shook his hand off with more strength than necessary, trying not to let Germany see how much his own fingers were trembling, how fast his heart was beating. “I hate Russia just as much as you, believe me, but you don’t need me, do you? England’s there to lure him in a-and… maybe I’m back earlier than expected. Belgium might not be as important as Russia but I don’t want Austria and Hungary to believe we can’t deal with our subjects, do you? I’m going now. Call me if there’s anything I need to know.”

This time, Germany didn’t try to hold him back.

When Prussia reached the car and let himself fall into the driver’s seat, his whole body was shaking. He needed three attempts to insert the key because it wanted to slip through his sweaty fingers every time he tried to get a better grip. He would have loved to close his eyes, to take a few breaths, to get a bit of time to clear his mind, to calm down, though he knew it wasn’t possible. He had a ferry to catch and a man to meet.

England’s letter was stored away in the pocket of his shirt, hidden in an unsealed envelope. They had gone through the plan often enough that Prussia had been dreaming about it last night, he knew it by heart. He was nervous, not because he didn’t believe in himself but rather because there were so many things that could go wrong. He had tried to be confident in front of England but here, alone in this car, driving to a country he hardly knew, meeting a man who hated him, it was hard to stay positive.

Still, he stood by his word. It was the only possibility. Maybe everything would go well, who knew? Hopefully, the pendant wouldn’t bother him again. If he could have just a few more days, he was sure they would be able to find a way home. There had to be a way.

Fortunately, Belgium had kept to their plan as well and was currently hiding in a seldom used chamber in the basement. When she hadn’t been able to report to the soldiers at the mansion, Prussia had gotten the anticipated call. If Germany didn’t believe him, he could call and would get the same story as Prussia, confirming his alibi. Sometime in the evening Belgium would appear again and Prussia would make up a story about traffic to hide the fact he had never returned to Berlin. The timing could become a problem, but the plan itself wasn’t one of his bad ones.

Prussia turned on the windscreen wiper when the odd rain drop transformed into a full-blown summer storm, a grim smile on his lips. Belgium didn’t have to help them, she didn’t have much to gain from it and there was much for her to lose. It was a miracle she had even believed Prussia in the first place and he knew he would never be able to make it up to her.

Either they got back and she, as she was in this reality, would cease to be or they would be forced to stay here, would be forced to forget, and things would be as bad as they had been before Prussia’s arrival. He didn’t like to think about the latter option.

He also avoided to think about England. He was anxious enough on his own and couldn’t let his worry about him cloud his judgement. He needed to think clearly and he needed to focus on accomplishing what England expected from him. That was the only important thing for now. Other problems he could solve later.

The roads were empty in the morning, though as the day carried on, other cars began to flood them. Fortunately, there was no major traffic jam. Whenever he was able to, Prussia floored the gas pedal, driving a few manoeuvres that would have cost him his license if the police had been present.

When he arrived in Orebro, it was 3 pm. Though, you wouldn’t have known it was barely afternoon if you had looked at the dark grey, sunless sky. He had managed to make the drive in five hours, which gave him hope it would be the same on his drive back to Copenhagen.

England had written down all the places he could think of that Russia might be using for the meeting. All Prussia had to do was drive to them and check if there was a big, scarfed man with a coat waiting for him. He would much rather find Russia than be found by him, but as long as he got the answers they needed, he would be happy.

Still, his mouth was dry and his stomach was lurching when he parked the car close to the first address England had given him. He hadn’t brought a gun because he didn’t want to appear suspicious but as he distanced himself from the car, the wind blowing through his hair sounding like laughter, he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been the right decision.

When he hesitantly approached the Orebro castle, the place where the treaty had been signed, he soon had to realise it was a dead end. The castle was located on a small island, which alone made Prussia wonder why Russia would want to use it for a meeting. It would be hard to escape if needed and a tourist’s attraction was never the best place to discuss private and important matters. More importantly, though, the castle was currently closed for renovations and Prussia wasn’t even able to cross the bridge to the island, let alone enter the castle itself.

When he walked back to the car, he couldn’t decide if he was happy or disappointed he hadn’t met Russia yet. If he was being honest, he had no desire to talk to him. They had never been on the best of terms, especially during the Cold War, and they had only recently started to talk more again. Here, though, they were enemies. If their lives hadn’t been depending on it, he would have never offered to go in England’s stead.

He needed more time than expected to find the second location. England’s r looked like a v, which made him drive to a completely different street before he noticed the mistake, cursing himself. He was still slightly angry, his eyes narrowed, when he entered the café, a nightmare of pink and yellow garlands.

Of course, the café itself wasn’t where England had sent him, albeit Prussia couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image of Russia sitting in of those delicate chairs, surrounded by flowers and fine china. England had told him there were a few back rooms which had been used for conferences once. Perhaps they were still in use, though the popularity of the café made him doubt it. It was easy enough to get inside. Prussia asked if he could use the bathroom and, when the waitress wasn’t looking, slipped through the door at the end of the room that only staff members were supposed to go through.

The hallway was small and cramped, the ceiling low enough to touch. It wasn’t dirty but after Prussia crossed the door to the kitchen and climbed a staircase, the air began to smell of old wood and dust, lamps few and far between. It was almost as if he were walking through a cave, distancing himself from civilisation and light with every step, vulnerable to whatever monster might be lurking inside.

When he arrived at a second door, a massive, metal thing, his heart was beating in his throat and his neck was tingling. He pushed down the handle and didn’t feel the door give way. It only sprang open after he pressed himself against it as well, making him stumble into the darkness behind it.

Adrenaline rushing through him, eyes widened and blind, he reached for the wall, letting his hands run over the dusty, blank surface until he found what he had been looking for. When the small bulb began to flicker, the light dim but bright enough to illuminate the small room and three doors leading away from it, a washed-out carpet covering the floor, Prussia couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

He hurried to open the doors, discovering a toilet on the right and two empty conference rooms with a nice view on the streets below. No Russia, though.

“Where the hell is that guy?” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. He wanted to stay optimistic but when he returned to the café, he was clenching his teeth, his body tense, his face twisted into a frown. What if England had been wrong? What if Russia had meant Copenhagen after all or had decided meeting England was too risky and everything, their plan, his drive to Sweden, him lying to Germany, had been for nothing? What if he was wasting his time here? Time he might not have much left of?

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. It was alright. He could do this. They still had time left. The pendant hadn’t begun to burn again. He took a deep breath. Everything would be fine. When he approached the small alley he had parked the car in, soft rain drizzling from the sky, he felt a bit better about himself. After all, if Russia didn’t want to show up, there wasn’t anything he could do to change that.

That was when he felt something press against the small of his back, round, hard, unyielding metal, recognisable even through the layers of his clothes. The barrel of a…

“Don’t move.” The click of a gun being loaded. “I have to admit this is a surprise… but I won’t pass up on the opportunity to see you bleed, that much I can promise you.”

Prussia froze, holding his breath. The rain made his hair stick to his neck, ran over his forehead and along the lids of his eyes, making his view blurry and washed-out like an old painting. He didn’t dare to lower his head to protect himself from the storm.

“Russia…,” he whispered, lips trembling as he scrambled for words. Maybe a part of him had already given up on the supposed meeting because his mind was empty, his thoughts plunged into chaos. He couldn’t help but feel like a fool for not noticing him earlier, for letting Russia sneak up on him. He took a deep breath. “Look, I’m alone. I’m unarmed. I’m just here to talk.”

Laughter, not happy, but low, dark, dangerous.

“Now you want to talk...,” Russia muttered. “I don’t remember you wanting to talk when you came to Moscow’s gates, do you? You and your beloved brother… what do you think he’d say if I sent him a part of you as an anniversary present? An eye for an eye, huh?”

Prussia gulped. “I, uh, I’d like to keep my eyes, thank you.”

Russia snorted. “I’ve almost forgotten about your annoying habit to make bad jokes… it also seems as if you still don’t know when it’s wiser to stay quiet. It’s really a wonder you’ve made it this far.”

Prussia cast a glance at the car, only a few metres away from him, the rain jumping off its windows. If he were to look a little farther, he would be able to see the main street, maybe even a few people. They wouldn’t see him, though, or they wouldn’t think much of them standing in this alley, the weapon hidden behind him.

“I… I know you’d like to kill me,” he ground out. “O-or… w-well, hurt me. I’d feel the same in your place. Though, there’re some things you don’t know, important things-“

He winced when Russia pushed the gun deeper into his back, almost making him lose his balance.

“I know you’ve been killing my people. I know I’d do the world a favour if I got rid of you. I know I’d deeply enjoy making you suffer… and rest assured, I’ve had lots of time to think about it. What to do with you if I’d get my hands on you… things that would make you beg for your death, Prussia, my old friend.” There was warm breath against his neck when Russia leaned down, his accentuated voice close enough to drown out the rain, almost as if they weren’t even outside anymore. “There’s only one reason why you don’t already have a bullet in your body and that’s because you really seem to be alone, you really seem to be unarmed, and I don’t understand how you could be that utterly stupid.”

Prussia swallowed hard. Maybe it really hadn’t been such a good idea to go without England after all.

“Before I shoot you, answer me one question… how did you know where to find me?” There was a hint of confusion in his voice and that was good, wasn’t it? That meant he hadn’t already decided Prussia’s fate after all. “Did England tell you? Why isn’t Germany here as well?”

_That’s more than one question_ , Prussia thought, though he bit back the words. Russia had already made clear he didn’t like his jokes.

“Germany isn’t here because he doesn’t know you are. He’s in Copenhagen, with England. That’s why England couldn’t come to meet you. That’s why he told me how to find you. That’s why I went in his stead.”

Russia was silent, long enough for Prussia to get nervous again. When he looked down at the pavement he could almost see red specks covering the asphalt already. As scared as he was, he couldn’t blame Russia for his words. He was running away from the Empire for fifty years, all the while having to watch his people and allies suffer and turning their backs on him. That was nothing you could forget that easily.

“I… er, England gave me a letter for you,” Prussia added slowly. “I can give it to you, it’s in the pocket of my shirt. Let me just-“

He tried to raise his hands but Russia’s voice stopped him.

“Don’t move,” he said. “I… I can get it myself.”

When the barrel left his back, Prussia drew in a long, shaky breath and it was a bit like breaking through the water’s surface. He was still expecting a bullet to tear through his skin at any moment but it was much easier to ignore the thought when a gun pressing into his flesh wasn’t constantly reminding him of it anymore.

There was the sound of heavy boots on asphalt and then Russia was standing in front of him, the gun pointed at his stomach. He wasn’t looking good. His dark blond hair was longer than Prussia was used to, the strands clean but shaggy as if he hadn’t bothered to brush them after showering. His chin was covered by a thick beard, except from a small spot just below his lips where a pale scar ran along. His eyes were dark stones in the haggard features of his face, his hair framing them like a curtain. Not even the coat could hide that he must have lost weight. If Belgium was trying to hide her misery, Russia was her antithesis.

_I’m sorry_ , Prussia thought because the lump in his throat was hindering him from speaking. Because Russia wouldn’t have believed him anyway.

Eyes flashing with resentment, Russia made a step closer to him, the hand that wasn’t holding the gun reaching into Prussia’s direction. It wasn’t getting the letter, though. Instead, he pulled the phone-like device out of Prussia’s jacket, throwing it on the pavement before Prussia could even utter a single word. There was an ugly crack and Prussia grimaced. It was obviously broken but Russia, probably not wanting to take chances, stepped on it once or twice, before kicking it against the nearest house wall with more strength than necessary.

“You don’t need that anymore,” Russia said, glaring at the device as if it were solely responsible for the events of the last fifty years. Prussia didn’t try to argue. Clenching his teeth, he tried not to flinch when Russia reached into the pocket of his shirt to fetch the letter. He held his breath when Russia glimpsed at the envelope and the words _To Russia_ that were written on it.

Russia looked up, their eyes meeting. “It’s England’s handwriting.”

_That’s what I’ve told you, haven’t I?_ Prussia thought, withstanding the urge to roll his eyes. Still, he could feel a smile dancing around the corners of his lips. Russia was ready to listen to him, wasn’t denying what Prussia had said, and that was enough to give him back some of his optimism. However, when Russia tucked the unopened letter into the folds of his coat, his heart dropped.

“Hey, don’t you want to read it?!” he yelled before he could stop himself. He had not come all this way for Russia to simply ignore the letter.

Russia smiled and it was the first time he vaguely looked like the Russia Prussia knew. It wasn’t a good smile.

“We’ve spent enough time here. I’m leaving… and you’re coming with me.”

Prussia stared at him as if he had grown a second pair of arms, dread coiling in his body. “Y-you… you can’t be serious. I can’t go with you. I don’t have much time, I… I…”

The words got stuck in his throat and he paused, gulping, tasting bile. He only noticed he was shaking his head when his view became blurry. This had to be a bad joke. However, the gun aiming at his face told him otherwise.

“You didn’t really think I’d let such a valuable hostage go, did you?” Russia chuckled. “You should be happy. Where we’re going, we’ll have lots of time to talk. Wasn’t that what you wanted? To talk? Now, if you could please turn around and get into the white Audi there. It’s right next to your car.”

Prussia couldn’t feel the rain anymore. He couldn’t hear it either. He couldn’t hear anything else than Russia’s voice, the words ghosting through his minds like an echo he couldn’t get rid of. Paralysed, he searched his mind for an answer, for a way out of this horrible situation, and couldn’t find it. This wasn’t going like he had hoped at all.

It was only when Russia’s expression darkened once more that Prussia realised he probably shouldn’t just stand there if he didn’t want to catch a bullet. Hesitantly, he turned around and began to walk to the car Russia had described. This situation was far from ideal but maybe everything would be fine in the end, after Russia had read the letter. Yes, Prussia would lose time, precious time, but if he got the answers he needed, it might be worth it after all.

He was about to get into the car, one foot already placed inside, when the sound of a roaring engine coming closer made him frown. It was much louder than a car sticking to the speed limit within the city should have sounded. And it was getting louder still.

“Get in the car!” Russia barked and Prussia let himself fall into the seat. At least he hadn’t been shot yet. Even though the rain made it difficult to make out small details, Prussia could see the main street through the windscreen, the view framed by the large buildings to the sides of the alley. It was when he pulled the door close that he noticed something moving in the corner of his eye.

There was another car and it was coming to a screeching halt just in front of the alley, the sound loud enough to drown out the rain, to make Prussia wince. Squinting, he tried to get a better look, though to no avail. The rain had gotten worse, was now pouring down as if someone had spilled a large bucket of water just above the town. He couldn’t make out more than colourful, moving specks.

When he tilted his head to look out of the window next to the driver’s seat, he froze. The door flew open and there was Russia, shock and anger drawn all over his face, moving as fast as if the devil were behind him. He was muttering in Russian, most of it hissed curses.

However, it was only after Russia had started the car, not caring to put on a seatbelt, his jaw working, hair and face covered by rain, that the windscreen wiper began to work and Prussia could see what had startled Russia.

There, at the far end of the alley, a gun in his hands and a murderous expression twisting his face, stood Germany.

However, Prussia didn’t have much time to be surprised because that was when a shot rang through the car and a bullet met his neck. He couldn’t do more than gasp before darkness swallowed him. Oddly enough, he could hear Russia as clearly as if he had been speaking right into his ears, his voice a low growl dripping with fury.

“Good night, Prussia. Count yourself lucky I didn’t aim for your lying mouth.”

~


	15. An English Interlude In Three Parts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see from the chapter's title, this is a special chapter - it's from England's point of view ;)

**An English Interlude In Three Parts**

**~**

_a cup of tea_

**~**

If there had ever been a perfect time for a cup of hot valerian tea to calm his nerves, England knew it had come. Unfortunately, there was neither a cup of boiling water nor a bag of tea nearby. There was only rain pouring down, drenching him, and it was as cold as it was depressing. He was still wondering how their plan could have failed this horribly.

Prussia hadn’t been gone for more than an hour when Germany had come to him and the look in his eyes had been enough to let England know there was something going terribly wrong.

“What the hell is Prussia doing in Sweden?” Germany had snarled. “Russia isn’t waiting here after all, is he?”

England hadn’t been able to answer him, had only been able to stare at him, trying to fight back the panic that had been a growing maelstrom in his mind. He had stayed silent when Germany had pulled him to his car and he had stayed silent ever since. Sometime during the drive, listening to Germany’s talk with a Colonel in Berlin, he had put the puzzle pieces together. The resulting image was anything but pleasant. If there was one thing, he had been sure of in this reality, then it was Germany’s devotion to Prussia. Though, it seemed as it this feeling hadn’t kept Germany from putting a tracker on him.

England had thought it couldn’t get worse but watching Russia drive away with a bleeding Prussia next to him had certainly taught him better.

He didn’t dare to think what might happen now. Though, there were flashes of images dancing through his mind, memories from when he had given himself over to the German soldiers. He had no desire to repeat that experience.

England clenched his teeth, his body cold and shaking, the sky crying above him. He just wanted to get home and he couldn’t help but feel as if the door to that home was closing itself before his eyes. He might not know whatever magic had made Prussia’s wish possible but he knew there were universal laws it had to follow. If Prussia’s wish had turned their world upside down, only he could turn it the right way round again. Without him…

England gulped. When he looked up and saw Germany approach him, he couldn’t help but wish for the earth to open up and swallow him. The gaze in his eyes was all too easy to read and it made England freeze like a mouse in the claws of a cat, his fingers digging into the fabric of his trousers, trying to find something to hold onto. His heart was racing in his chest. When he opened his trembling lips, it hurt to speak, as if the words were knifes sliding along the insides of his throat.

“Germany, I didn’t want anything of this to happen, I didn’t know about it, p-please, you have to believe me, you-“

When Germany’s fist met his nose, there was an ugly crack. The blow was hard enough to make him see stars, to make his ears ring. It made him go down, hands clutching his knees, coughing, gasping for air. There was pain, sharp and glowing, reaching inside his head, and when he tried to inhale through his nose, it was like breathing flames.

“I don’t believe you,” Germany growled.

England could feel tears brimming in his eyes, if of pain or fear or frustration he didn’t know. When he lifted a trembling hand to touch his nose, it came back bloody. He closed his eyes, trying not to sob, trying not to give in to desperation. When he felt fingers digging into his shoulders, grabbing him, shaking him slightly, he had no choice but to open them again.

“I want the truth, England.” Germany’s face was a cold, twisted grimace, so unlike the man he had grown to be in their true reality. His breath was hot against England’s skin and he was close, much too close, and England could hardly move, let alone step away. He was trapped. “You’re going to tell me everything and you’re going to do it now. No more lies and ploys and secrets. If you’re honest now, I might show mercy after all. If not, well..”

Germany’s eyes flickered down to where England could feel a small stream of blood trickle down to his chin. When he licked his lips, he could taste iron.

“Let’s just say it’s not going to be pleasant.”

A cold shiver ran down England’s spine. He wanted to be angry with Prussia, for not being more careful, for not thinking this plan through, for being the reason they were here in the first place, but he didn’t have it in him to blame him anymore. After all, it had been his decision to follow Prussia when he had felt the strange pull of dark magic tearing their world apart. It had been his decision to lie to Germany and he hadn’t vetoed Prussia’s plan either. The only person he could blame was himself.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t tell Germany the truth. Returning home was equivalent to destroying this world and he could hardly tell Germany they wanted to do that. Still, what was there to fight for? Every passing minute brought Prussia closer to forgetting his old self and, while England was beginning to think it might not be the same for him, Prussia had to bring them back. It was as simple as that. It was as horrible as that.

“It’s not that e-easy,” he sobbed, angry tears spilling out of his eyes and mingling with rain and blood. “Yes, I l-lied to you and yes, Russia wanted to meet me here all along. But I didn’t send Prussia to be captured, if that’s what you think, and I hate that it happened just as much as you!”

“Then why did Prussia come here in the first place?” Germany let out a snort that sounded more like a growl. “Surely, you don’t want me to believe he didn’t know how to drive to Berlin and ended up here accidentally.”

“H-he…” England took a shaky breath, blinking hastily to force away the tears. “I told him about Russia. He wanted to talk to him.”

It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the entire truth either.

“Why?!” Germany spat. England winced when the grip around his shoulders tightened. He shook his head helplessly.

“I… I can’t tell you,” he whispered, glancing at a spot at the far end of the alley, trees wavering in the wind, fallen leaves leaping through the air.

“I think you’re misunderstanding your situation,” Germany hissed. “There isn’t anything you can’t tell me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the reason Russia’s been able to escape with Prussia, and I think you know very well how much Prussia means to me. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you to get him back… your people are leading a very good life right now but there’s much I can do to make them suffer. There’s much I can do to make you suffer. So you might want to think twice about what you can and cannot tell me.”

England went limp in his arms, closing his eyes. He felt like throwing up. Maybe if he tried to detach himself from his body, he wouldn’t feel like the ground was crumbling beneath his feet.

“I can’t,” he repeated slowly. To his own surprise, his voice didn’t shake. Whatever happened to him, it wasn’t important. Prussia was more important. As long as Prussia was alive, as long as there was the smallest chance they were able to return, he couldn’t let Germany know what Prussia really thought of this world. “Do with me what you want. Do with my people what you want. I don’t care. I can’t tell you.”

When Germany let go of his shoulders, he shoved him hard enough to make England stumble backward, to make him fall to the ground, knees cracking as they met the ground. His palms hurt from stopping the fall, tiny stones from the road digging into his flesh, and he couldn’t do more than taking hasty, gasping breaths for a long moment. He wondered if Germany would kick or hit him some more just when a high-pitched ringing sound echoed through the alley.

“Get in the car!” Germany yelled at him, every syllable vibrating with ager.

Despite the pain he was in, England didn’t need to be told twice. Whoever was calling Germany, he couldn’t help but be grateful to them. Whatever might be able to draw Germany’s rage away from him was a welcome disturbance.

Germany didn’t get in the car as well. England didn’t ask why. When a soldier drove him to a military base and locked him in an empty room, he couldn’t help but be relieved. There wasn’t anything he could occupy himself with but he didn’t need anything, either. He was content with pressing himself against the wall, hugging his legs and wiping away the blood with the cuff of his shirt, trying to breathe, trying to calm down, glad to be alone.

It was only a few hours later when he began to think, when he began to wonder what might have been important enough to keep Germany away from him. It was another hour later when a soldier opened the door to give him something to drink that he finally got to know the reason.

“Ah, don’t you know? The Emperor of Austria and his whole family got assassinated.”

~

_a flickering light_

~

There was no clock to tell how much time he had already spent in the room but England begun to count the times the flickering lightbulb in the centre of the ceiling had gone out and back on again. He reached 196 when the door opened and Germany entered.

The good thing was, he seemed calmer, his steps well-chosen and confident, the angry grimace from before gone. The bad thing was, there was a grim smile in his face and England had no desire to know what the reason for it was.

He didn’t want to move, let alone get up, but he wanted Germany to tower over him even less. That was why he pushed himself off the ground, holding onto the wall while he rose, fighting against the heaviness of his body.

“My apologies,” Germany stated with a cold gaze. “I couldn’t come earlier.”

He let his eyes roam over England’s battered body and England crossed his arms. He knew he must look horrible, the former white shirt stained with blood and dirt, his hair ruffled by wind and rain, his nose broken. Still, he refused to look away when their eyes met.

“However, maybe more time to think has done you some good. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

England glared at him. Perhaps if he didn’t move, if he held his breath and stood as still as a statue, he would be able to melt into the stones of the wall and wouldn’t have to endure this conversation.

Germany let out a low sigh. “I thought so.”

He crossed the room until they were standing less than a metre apart. England had to fight the urge to step away from him because he knew he would just end up with his back pressed against the wall. Looking at Germany, he couldn’t help but think of Prussia, couldn’t help but wonder why he was clinging to this broken reflection of Germany, why it seemed so hard for him to fight against it.

Of course, if he was being honest, he knew why, and something about the knowledge made his heart clench. As much as Prussia tried to deny it, some part of him loved Germany, despite his horrible deeds, and he would always try to stand by his side. He wouldn’t have been sleeping with him otherwise. Germany would always come first for Prussia, both here and in their old reality. England knew that. It didn’t make it hurt less.

“I’ve heard the Austrian Emperor got killed,” he said in a flat voice. “I know you’re allies. I’m sorry.”

Germany raised his brows. There was something rushing through his eyes, a shadow maybe, a distant spark, and then he was laughing. Laughing. It didn’t sound happy and England wondered if he were even able to laugh properly, if this empty, ugly room didn’t shut out any hint of happiness when you entered it. He wondered how the hell Germany could find his words funny.

“England, I’ve arranged for him to be killed.” Germany rolled his eyes. “I thought you’d be smart enough to figure that out.”

“W-well…,” England mumbled, hands fidgeting with the pockets of his trousers, his mouth oddly dry. “Congratulations, then.”

“It’s certainly saved me a lot of trouble,” Germany said. “You should be grateful, too. Your… mistake… might be good for something after all. You see, Austria and Hungary believe Russia’s men are behind the assassination. It was a sign of rebellion… and it was a distraction to kidnap Prussia. With both the German Empire and the Austrian-Hungarian Empire looking for him, he won’t come far. We know he’s in Sweden and we’ve closed the borders. It’s only a question of time until we find him.”

England took a shaky breath. Perhaps he should just stay quiet, perhaps any word from him would only worsen the situation, though he couldn’t help but ask the question that made his mind spin. “Why are you telling me that?”

“Russia… can’t kill Prussia,” Germany muttered, his gaze absent, almost as if he weren’t talking to England but trying to convince himself. “My brother’s smart… he’s going to be fine. Moreover, we’re going to be reunited soon enough and I’ll have all the time in the world to ask him about his reasons… about you. I don’t need you.”

England bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to keep a straight face. Prussia wouldn’t give him the answers he wanted either but Germany didn’t know that. Or would he? England couldn’t help but think of the last evening, the bar in the hotel. Prussia had looked happy there and he hadn’t hesitated to agree to Germany’s suggestion. What if he decided he didn’t want to return to their old reality after all?

It was a crazy thought and England didn’t really believe in it but there was just enough doubt in him to make it scary, too. He had good reasons for wanting to return, but Prussia? His kingdom had been dissolved long ago. His wish really shouldn’t have surprised England.

Caught up in his thoughts, he needed a few moments to realise Germany was talking again.

“You don’t want to tell me what I want to hear and I certainly can’t trust you after you’ve been lying to me for so long. I also don’t need your questionable help to catch Russia anymore. That leaves the question of what to do with you.”

Germany tilted his head. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that made the hair in England’s neck stand up. He knew he wouldn’t like what Germany was about to say.

“I… decided I’m going to leave you here. I know I can’t kill you… but that doesn’t mean I have to let you walk around to maybe ruin another one of my plans. Perhaps a century or two in solitude can teach you better... goodbye, England.”

With that, Germany turned around and began to walk back to the door he had come from. England stared after him, a mild frown taking hold of his face. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

England was a country. He couldn’t be put away like a broken toy, he couldn’t be replaced. There were things he needed to do, he needed to be there for his people. Yes, theoretically speaking, it might not be necessary for him to be present, but… the mere suggestion was more insulting than any of Germany’s words.

He clenched his teeth, coldness seeping through him. Prussia… Prussia would get him out of here soon enough, wouldn’t he? He would be angry with Germany and he would convince him to make up his mind. He just had to stay here for a little while longer.

Though, what if Prussia lost his memories before he got rescued? What if he forgot about him, too, about what they had been through? What if he didn’t care what was happening to him? What if he was all too willing to let him rot in here, only a flickering light as company?

A century could be very long if there was nothing you could do to keep your mind busy. England swallowed hard. A tendril of fear ran through him, cold and sharp, and it cut through his insides like a knife.

“Wait!” he gasped out before he could stop himself. Germany made a single step before he paused, a mere metre away from the door.

“You can’t do that,” England said and he hated the hint of desperation in his voice. “My people need me… I can’t stay here, that’s worse than death, you know that. Please, I.. I know you love Prussia, you can’t be that cold-hearted…”

He didn’t notice he had made a few shaky steps toward Germany until he was close enough to touch him, if he reached out a hand. His heart was beating against his rips as if trying to break free.

“Prussia… Prussia would hate you for doing this to me, he-“

“What do _you_ know about Prussia?” Germany snorted and England froze. “You’ve always been enemies… and don’t tell me anything about an old crush, that story got old very fast. When we met last year you’ve made it very clear you’d like to see us both dead. It seems at least half of that is true, still. Nevertheless, you should hate him and he should hate you, that’s how it’s always been. So I ask you: why the change of mind?”

“I… I…” Eyes unblinking, England stared at Germany’s back. His lungs didn’t want to draw in oxygen anymore. What could he possibly answer?

“If there’s nothing more you have to say… I’ll take my leave.”

“No!” England closed his eyes, took a shaky breath. When he exhaled, it was as if he were losing every bit of strength left in his body, leaving him tired, weak, and exhausted. He licked his lips. “I-It’s… it’s because… because he isn’t really your Prussia, just as I’m not the England you know.”

Germany turned around to face him.

~

_an uncomfortable reality_

~

“So what you’re telling me is… Prussia and you are from the future… the year 2018 to be exact. A future in which the German Empire lost the war… and now you’re trying to get back before you’re losing your memories, which is why Prussia went to meet Russia, our worst enemy...” Germany made a disapproving sound. “You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

England could only give a small shrug. He felt ill, his skin itching with the feeling of making a horrible mistake.

“Is your precious future really that much better? I doubt it.”

England shot a glare at him. “W-well, at least we don’t go around assassinating the leaders of our allies.”

Germany smiled at him and England almost wished back the frown and the anger.

“My apologies. I didn’t want to insult you but, you see, I find it hard to believe I’d prefer a future in which we lost the war… which makes me wonder why Prussia would want to return… are you sure he isn’t lying to you?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer.

“All in all, I have to say… I believe you, England. It explains a lot of your and Prussia’s behaviour. Doesn’t it feel good to tell the truth for once? It must have been hard to carry such a great secret without being able to tell anyone.”

England had to clench his teeth to keep himself from snarling the words waiting in his throat because they would most certainly earn him another punch in the face. He crossed his arms, averting his gaze. He could only hope this whole ordeal would be over soon.

Germany let out a small chuckle. When he reached out to grasp his chin, forcing England to meet his eyes again, England tensed up, shaking his head to free himself. However, Germany only tightened his grip, fingers digging into the flesh of his cheeks, pain blossoming beneath the skin, and England had to give up his struggle.

“England, England… I have to admit you’ve done a good job faking loyalty. When you shot Belgium, I was ready to believe you’ve finally seen reason. I was beginning to see why Prussia had developed this odd infatuation with you…” The smile vanished, though there was still a glint in the depths of his eyes, a glint like a panther’s eyes in the darkness of the jungle. “Sadly, I was mistaken.”

When Germany sighed, his breath was warm against England’s cheek and it took all he had not to shudder with disgust.

“Still… thank you, England. Thank you for being honest. I now know exactly what to do…”

 _I don’t want to know_ , England thought, his blood transforming into ice. Though, it wasn’t like he had any say in that decision.

“I just have to let Prussia lose his memories, so he doesn’t think of returning to that strange future of yours anymore. Of course, that means I can’t let you taint his mind… I’m sorry, England. I really wanted to let you out after you’ve told me the truth. Though, I’m going to tell a soldier to let you shower and get you something to eat… that’s the least I can do now.”

Germany’s grip softened somewhat, his thumb no longer digging into the skin, but drawing gentle circles. It was almost worse than the pain.

“You won’t see Prussia as you know him again but I’m going to get you out of here as soon as possible, I promise. Maybe he’ll still like you then, who knows… however, if not…”

When Germany leaned down to press their lips together, it wasn’t quite a kiss, because England’s mind refused to view it as such, because there was only coldness ringing through him, coldness and emptiness, as if he weren’t really alive after all.

Germany’s smile was horrible. “From Prussia. I know he’s wanted to do this ever since you came to our home.”

When England managed to breathe again, he was alone.

~


	16. Red Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to whoever celebrates it! :D

**Chapter 14: Red Tears**

**~**

When Prussia came to, he wasn’t alone. His head was pounding as if someone who didn’t know how to use a hammer were driving a nail into it. He clenched his teeth, blinking, the view still blurry even though it should have been clear by now. His heart made a nervous thumb as memories ran through his mind.

Maybe Russia had hit the part of his brain that was helping him see. Then it would probably take another hour or so for him to regain his full sight. It wasn’t a good thought to have but Prussia knew he had been lucky. If he weren’t as strong as he was in this world, it would have taken much longer for his body to reject the bullet, to heal the wound. Still, he wished he could at least see more than greyish shadows and silhouettes. When he lifted his upper body, he could feel the soft cushions he was lying on, a couch maybe. Something moved in the corner of his eye and he froze.

“Russia…?” he rasped, squinting to no avail.

“Ah… you’re awake.” The shadow crept closer and Prussia tried to look at where he assumed was Russia’s face. “You’re lucky… someone convinced me to read your letter. It wasn’t as satisfying as cutting your throat would’ve been but… I see why you’ve wanted me to read it first.”

“Great,” Prussia mumbled to himself, grimacing. Russia was lucky his eyes weren’t working yet because he might have tried to tackle and punch the shit out of him otherwise. Not only had Russia shot him but he had also kidnapped him and, damn, Germany had been there too and he must have seen everything.

He stiffened, the thought wiping every trace of anger out of his body, leaving only cold dread. Germany had been there. Why the hell had Germany been there? And if he had been there, what had happened to England? England…

“Oh shit,” Prussia muttered, shaking his head. “Oh, this is horrible.”

Germany appearing in Sweden meant he had to know Russia hadn’t been in Copenhagen. It meant he had to know England had been lying to him. It meant England was in danger and that was the last thing Prussia had wanted. He couldn’t even be there to protect him! If Russia had just left him in that alley, if they hadn’t met at all, he could have tried to talk to Germany, he would have taken the blame, it was his fault after all, only his fault, and then it would have been alright, England would have been fine, but now…

Prussia clenched the fabric of his trousers, trying not to throw up.

“I wouldn’t say it’s horrible,” Russia said. “It could be worse. You haven’t given up yet, have you?”

“W-what…?” Prussia cleared his throat, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve read your letter,” Russia repeated and the words didn’t want to make sense. He had already mentioned he had read the letter, what did that have to do with giving up and horrible situations? Prussia opened his mouth to ask again, maybe phrase it differently this time, when the thought, as strange as it was, took root in his mind, and his eyes widened. Russia had read the letter. He wasn’t trying to kill him. He…

“You… believe me?” Prussia didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. After everything that had gone wrong, he didn’t know if he could believe in hope anymore. “You’re not here to torture me?”

“I’m not blind,” Russia muttered. “I can’t take revenge on someone who isn’t responsible for my suffering… and that of my people. You’re not the Prussia I want to hurt… yet.”

Prussia felt as if a weight had fallen off his shoulders, as if he could breathe again after suffocating for an eternity. He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Russia believed England and him. Prussia couldn’t believe the day would come he would be this happy about something Russia had said. Another thought made him pause.

“Wait, what do you mean… you’re not blind? What does that have to do with believing what England wrote in his letter?”

“Ah…” Russia moved, sighing. “It means I can see the difference… if I focus on it. You look the same but there’s something about you… I thought I was imagining it at first. Maybe I didn’t want to believe it… torturing you does have a nice ring to it…”

Prussia narrowed his eyes. “Can you get to the point, please?”

Russia sighed. “There’s a shadow clinging to you… sometimes people who are about to die have such a shadow. Yours, though… it’s fading…”

Prussia tensed up when he noticed Russia moving, closing in on him to press a finger against his chest. Only that it didn’t really touch his chest but stopped a few centimetres in front of it when it met a metal pendant. England’s necklace. Prussia frowned. Russia must have pulled it out of his shirt.

“I’ve also noticed your óberég.”

“My… what…?” Prussia furrowed his brows. “The pendant… England enchanted it to help me keep my memories.”

“Ah, I imagine that’s something England would know how to do…” Russia leaned back again. When Prussia tried to focus on him, it seemed as if his silhouette was clearer, the colours not yet fully there, but hinted at, like the washed-out shade of an often worn t-shirt. “It’s a talisman. It’s exhausted, though. Imagine a burned down candle, the wax molten, only a small flame flickering in the darkness while the wind is trying to blow it out for good. That’s your talisman at the moment.”

“Oh.” Prussia swallowed hard, shivering. “W-well, you said my… shadow… is fading, isn’t that a good thing?”

His view had improved enough to let him make out the shape of Russia’s body, to let him see him shrug.

“Maybe,” he murmured slowly. “I haven’t seen it before.”

“Can you… can you help us then?” Prussia asked when it became clear Russia wouldn’t add anything, his heart jumping in his chest. “Do you know how we can get back to our reality?”

“No.”

It was like a punch in the face even though Prussia hadn’t expected any other answer. His heart clenched and he could feel the corners of his mouth sink down as a wave of hopelessness flooded him. If neither Russia nor England had a clue what they could do, was the fight still worth it?

“You shouldn’t give up, though. If it had been easy to get here, it shouldn’t be difficult to return. Sometimes the easiest solutions are the right ones.”

Prussia snorted, the sound bitter and sad. “I don’t even have a difficult solution, for god’s sake! I have no idea… and now England’s doomed as well. Just because of me. I’m a horrible person. No wonder nobody likes me.”

He couldn’t even cry. He felt too tired to cry, as if the last days had sucked every bit of strength out of him. He just wanted to lie down, to sleep, to forget. That was what was awaiting him anyway, wasn’t it? Forgetting. Maybe he should just stop fighting and start doing it already. He let out a small sigh, lifting a hand to rub his face. When he spoke again, his voice didn’t sound like him, was too quiet, almost resigned.

“I’m sorry, you know. For what I… well, the Prussia of this world, the German Empire did…” He let his hand fall down again, clutching the cushion of the couch. “You also need to know England didn’t want to give you up. He made me promise not to tell Germany and I… well, it’s my fault you got discovered. Please don’t blame him.”

He licked his lips, the skin dry and chapped, and frowned. “I still don’t know why he’s shown up, though… he was supposed to think you’re in Denmark.”

When he looked up at Russia, his head was tilted and his gaze was focused on him in a strangely intense way. Prussia’s neck began to tickle, the feeling magnified by the growing silence.

“You look like Prussia… but the words coming out of your mouth seem to belong to a different person.”

Prussia raised his brows. He couldn’t quite decide if he should take it as a compliment or not, though he couldn’t help but show a small grin. “Well, let’s hope it stays that way for a while longer…”

He cleared his throat. “Eh… how long was I out? What’s going on out there?”

Even as blurry as his view was, he could see Russia’s face darken, his shoulders slumping.

“It’s been twenty-four hours since we left Orebro. The Emperor of Austria-Hungary got killed… they blame me for his death.”

“Damn,” Prussia hissed, tensing up. It had only been a week since their meeting with Austria and Hungary but he had somehow forgotten all about it the moment seemingly more important events had popped up. Hearing the news was as if a candle had been lighted, illuminating thoughts that had been lying in darkness for the last few days. It was horribly obvious what must have happened.

“Mission _Checkmate_ seems to have been a success,” he muttered darkly. His heart fell to the pit of his stomach. Some part of him wanted to defend Germany, wanted to say Austria and Hungary deserved what had happened, but he knew all too well the German Empire wasn’t better in the slightest. It was no surprise Germany had manipulated the situation in his favour, as sad as the realisation was. Russia was as convenient a scapegoat as any other of their enemies.

“They’re going to come here,” Russia continued, his voice passive, almost as if he weren’t speaking but letting a recorder do the job for him. “They’re coming to get me.”

Prussia stiffened. He didn’t have to ask who.

“They must have figured out we’re here by now. Perhaps they’re planning to ambush the house at this very moment… perhaps not.” Russia sighed, gazing down at the floor out of heavy-lidded eyes. The armchair he was sitting in seemed to be both too big and too small for him. “Whatever. I’m prepared. I’ve sent my… friends… away… I’m the only one left. I’ve had time to think… maybe too much time… I’ve lived for a long time… I’ve existed even longer. I’m ready to die.”

Prussia stared at him, waiting for a punchline that didn’t come. If Russia had said he wanted to form a band with him, he couldn’t have been more surprised. Though, this surprise was far from positive or even slightly funny.

“D-don’t… don’t say anything like that.” Prussia grimaced, a spark of anger running through him. What a horrible thing to say. Hadn’t Russia been the one to say he shouldn’t give up? Why was he doing the very thing he had told Prussia not to do? “That’s bullshit. You can’t die. You’re a country.”

It was only when Russia slowly looked up at him, pale strands of hair falling back to his ears, his eyes as clear as a mountain lake, that Prussia realised he had regained his full sight. He couldn’t really be happy about it.

“You know countries can die… if they don’t belong into the world as it is anymore,” Russia said. “The German Empire and the Austro-Hungarian Empire have split my land between them long ago. The only thing keeping my people clinging to the past and them from officially dissolving the Russian Empire is my living, breathing body.”

 _I didn’t die_ , Prussia thought. _I’m still there, annoying Germany in his own home, refusing to die… refusing to live._

However, he knew he couldn’t argue against Russia’s points. He looked even worse than Belgium did and some part of Prussia knew he was right. Still, it felt wrong. He had known Russia for all his life, had seen him grow strong and had seen him fall again. Damn, he had even lived at his house for a while! Granted, it hadn’t been too pleasant. Still… imagining a world without Russia, as much as he hated his guts sometimes, was like breathing underwater. Impossible.

Russia snorted in an utterly tired way. “I didn’t even get my revenge on Prussia even though I could almost taste it already… that’s the only thing you should be sorry for.”

A smile appeared in his face, halfway hidden by the hair of his beard. “I have to thank you, though. You’re proof this world isn’t meant to be. I can gladly die, knowing there’s a better reality… somewhere… even if I’m not living in it. I hope you figure out how to return, Prussia who isn’t Prussia.”

Prussia stared at him, lips trembling, unable to bring himself to speak. There didn’t seem to be the right words to fit this situation, as if they weren’t even invented yet. His heart was heavy in his chest. When he drew in breath, it hurt. There was a trickling sensation in his throat that transformed into heat, eating its way through his body as if he had swallowed flames. He tore his eyes open just when a tremor ran through him, when pain rang through his chest, and this time he knew where to look even in his state of agony.

He brought a trembling hand to his neck and slung it around the glowing chain. There was a loud clang when the pendant met the striped wall at the other end of the room before coming to a halt in an empty, blue vase. A drop of sweat fell from his chin to the carpet next to his feet, his stomach twisting. Prussia had to suppress a groan. There went his last means of stalling for time.

Russia had followed the flying necklace with his eyes but he went back to gazing at Prussia now, his head slightly tilted. His brows creased. He looked as if he wanted to say something just when a sound echoed through the room.

Knocking.

The next few things happened in a blur. Russia rose, blocking the view to the opening entrance door. There was the sound of a shot, then another one, and Russia’s body wavered until he fell to his knees. Prussia knew he should have looked at the door, should have gotten up and done something, though he couldn’t bring himself to avert his eyes, gaze glued to Russia, almost as if a part of him were fearing he wouldn’t be there anymore if he dared to look away.

He heard him laugh, and wasn’t it odd how that was the sound his mind deemed important enough to focus upon? He watched him slowly raise his hands. If they were trembling, it was only because of the blood running down the sleeves of his coat, just above his left elbow. He didn’t see the soldier who must have shot him and he also didn’t see anyone else even though a distant part of his mind noted the dark silhouettes in the corners of his eyes, the signs of people filling the room, the sounds of weapons being loaded.

It was only when Russia made an effort to get up, probably ordered to do so, that a hand landed upon his shoulder and he froze. It was like jolting awake from a nightmare. Only that this nightmare didn’t seem to be ending.

“Are you all right, brother?”

Prussia looked up even though he already knew who was talking to him. Even if he hadn’t said anything, he still would have known, from the familiar weight on his shoulder, from the way those fingers were gently squeezing it as if saying _I’m there for you if you need me_.

Germany was wearing his uniform and even though there was only a distant worry in his eyes, no bitterness, no anger, no malice, it hurt to look at him. Prussia couldn’t look away, either. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was a special place in hell for people like himself.

“I’m… fine,” he mumbled. Even to his own ears, it didn’t sound convincing. When he rose, glimpsing past Germany and to the other side of the room, Russia was gone.

“Russia didn’t shoot me again. The wound’s already closed…” He forced himself to smile. “I’m as good as new again.”

It was hard to know what Germany was thinking when there were only faint shadows of emotions flickering through his eyes. Prussia couldn’t tell if he were even listening to him, let alone what he was thinking about or what he had done with England. He only knew he wouldn’t start a discussion here of all places.

“I’m glad Russia didn’t hurt you any more than he already did,” Germany said, the hint of a smile in his face. He leaned closer, the tips of his fingers brushing Prussia’s upper arm, and Prussia held his breath. He almost thought Germany would kiss him despite the group of soldiers all too ready to lynch whoever wasn’t completely straight surrounding them. It didn’t happen, though. “I was worried… but I know you’re strong. I knew you’d get through this.”

Germany gave his shoulder a few pats before gesturing to him to follow him outside. Prussia couldn’t help the itch in his neck that only seemed to spread the closer he got to the door, as if his own body were telling him not to go with Germany, not to go outside. Still, he had no choice, right?

He had only distanced himself a few metres from the house, golden fields and a small forest to its sides, when he saw what Germany had wanted him to come out for.

There, in the centre of an empty circle, surrounded by the smug, victorious faces of soldiers, was Russia. Alive, it seemed, because he was still holding his head high, despite the ropes binding his hands at his back and the bullet wounds that were drowning the ground he was kneeling upon with blood.

Austria and Hungary, both their faces twisted with hatred and disgust, were standing at the other end of the circle. It took Prussia a few moments to realise they were talking.

“You should confess, Russia,” Austria said. “You don’t need even more falsehood to weigh down your soul when you’re knocking on heaven’s door.”

He crinkled his nose as if he were smelling something bad, a frown darkening his expression. “Though, I have to admit your soul might be a lost case.”

Hungary put a comforting hand on the arm of her husband. Prussia noticed she didn’t look half as pretty and dolled up as she had at their last meeting. Her hair was flat and lifeless, the shadows beneath her eyes prominent despite multiple layers of make-up. Her face was almost as ashen as that of Austria.

“Give it up,” she muttered. “It won’t happen. Look at his smile, that’s enough to prove his guilt.”

She raised her chin, gaze directed at Russia. “Let me do it.”

Austria started coughing, though he caught himself surprisingly fast, a hand pressed against his mouth, his face twisted. There was a gleam of sweat on his forehead. He nodded.

A horrible smile grazed Hungary’s lips. There was a gun stored away in the holster at her waist but she ignored it. Instead, she pulled a sabre out of its decorated, black and golden sheath, its curved blade glimmering in the sun light. It was only when she began to walk forward, her grip tight around the sword’s hilt, that Russia spoke.

“Kill me if you want to. I don’t care,” he said. “Though, I think I should let you know… if you want to kill the man who’s responsible for the death of your Emperor, you only have to look around. Unfortunately, the pleasure wasn’t mine.”

Hungary stiffened, eyes narrowed and glimmering like those of a lioness. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Russia shrugged. “If you think so… your lo-”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence. However, there was a smile on his lips and the knowing look in his empty eyes made it almost seem as if he were still alive. When his body fell to the earth, the detached head rolled a few metres away from it and the earth cried red tears.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hungary’s sabre is inspired by the Hungarian Hussars. [[Example](http://www.militaryheritage.com/hadiksword.htm)]


	17. Shooting The Dog

**Chapter 15: Shooting The Dog**

**~**

Prussia stayed silent while a low-ranking soldier drove them back to Copenhagen. Germany didn’t initiate a conversation but there was tension in the air, almost thick enough to cut. It was only a question of time until the tinder box would explode. If there had been a sliver of hope left in Prussia, it vanished when he entered the hotel room they still had to get their things out of and found it empty. He knew he would regret the question even before he asked it.

“Where’s England?”

There were steps behind his back, though he didn’t turn around, unwilling to let Germany see his expression. Perhaps a part of him hoped he could still make up a lie if Germany couldn’t see the truth in his eyes and Prussia knew he would if they were facing each other.

“We don’t need him anymore.” There was the sound of a suitcase being zipped up. “Despite… minor disturbances, we’ve reached our goal. Russia’s gone.”

“I want to see him,” Prussia said, glaring at the window with its closed flowery curtains, his muscles tense enough to hurt. When he grabbed his bag, he had to suppress the urge to smash it against the wall.

“Like I said, there’s no need to do so… if you really want to know, I plan to send him back to London.”

Maybe it was the way Germany said it, the way he sounded as if he didn’t care, his voice dismissive, bored, even though Prussia knew all too well he did. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t blind. He had seen him in that alley and he had seen the fury in his eyes and he knew there was no way in hell England was on his way to London in the comfy compartment of a train. This lack of interest was more concerning than words of confusion and accusation could have been. He turned around before he could stop himself.

“Cut this crap,” Prussia growled, clenching his fists. “I don’t care about the bullshit you’ve told Austria and Hungary. You know fully well I wasn’t supposed to be in Sweden. You should be angry with me! Why aren’t you yelling at me?! Tell me the fucking truth! Where’s England?!”

Germany raised a brow, a dark glint lurking in the depths of his eyes, almost like a warning. “You want the truth? The truth is I don’t care about your mistake. We’re where we’re supposed to be regardless.”

Prussia wanted to scream. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. What he did was slowly shake his head, refusing to believe this situation was real. An icy shiver ran down his spine. Something must have happened. It almost felt as if… as if Germany really didn’t care, as if he didn’t care because he wasn’t confused about the past events anymore, because he already knew why Prussia had done what he had done.

Prussia knew his face must be even paler than the walls behind him by now. It couldn’t be, right? Germany couldn’t know the truth. He was no psychic. The only way he would know was if someone had told him. But he refused to believe Belgium would have spoken up about them, especially as she was still in Berlin, and England… no, there was no way England of all people would have told Germany the truth. It was ridiculous to even consider he would. Still…

“Y-you…” He took a shaky breath. “You still didn’t tell me where England is.”

Germany’s jaw tightened. “And I won’t. Let it go, Prussia.”

Prussia felt ill. He knew he couldn’t get Germany to tell him the truth if he didn’t want to be honest but he also couldn’t let the topic go. He couldn’t help but feel that, as long as there was still an open answer to that question, there was a chance everything would turn out right in the end, that Germany hadn’t hurt England after all, that England was fine and would come walking into the room with a familiar scowl but also the hint of a smile on his lips. He didn’t want to see Germany as a villain but it was getting harder to ignore the truth by the minute. When he sighed, bag falling out of his trembling hand and to the floor, it felt like defeat.

“You… you know, don’t you?” Prussia swallowed hard, not wanting to look at Germany but unable to avert his eyes at the same time.

Germany raised his brows. He stepped forward, his suitcase forgotten behind him, until there was barely a metre separating them.

“What do you mean? What do I know, Prussia?”

Prussia held his breath. If Germany didn’t already know, he would blow their cover and he would hate himself forever for that. But if Germany did know…

“Why I’ve gone to Sweden. Why I wanted to meet Russia. Why… why I lied to you.” He licked his lips, searching Germany’s face for signs it wasn’t like he thought it was after all. He narrowed his eyes. “And don’t you dare denying it. If there’s even a hint of respect for me left in you, don’t deny it.”

Germany’s expression didn’t change and maybe that was why it was so hard to believe the words that came out of his mouth. “I have nothing but respect for you, Prussia. Everything I do is because I love you… I just want to protect you… and keep you from making a mistake you can’t correct. That being said… yes, I know. England told me.”

Prussia felt as if the earth had opened up beneath his feet, pulling him into a darkness he wouldn’t be able to crawl out of. He held onto the anger because it was easier than logically dealing with the problem at hand. “What the hell did you do to him?!”

Germany snorted and Prussia could only barely keep himself from punching him straight in the face.

“Calm down. What did you expect from me? I knew you were hiding something, I knew England was hiding something, and I wanted to know the truth. Can you blame me?” Germany raised his arms in a mockery of innocence. “England’s fine, I promise you. I simply don’t want you to meet him.”

“Yeah?” Prussia grimaced, letting out a dark chuckle. “How long until I’m allowed to see him, dad? I don’t need your protection. I can make my own choices. You… you want me to forget, don’t you? You want me to forget about England and what’s right and what’s wrong and you want me to stay with you, but I can’t do that. Not as long as I’m still myself. T-this…”

He pressed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the tears threatening to spill over. Somehow he couldn’t stop shaking his head. “This tyranny… this hatred.. it’s wrong, Germany! It’s not supposed to be this way. We were supposed to lose the war and it was good we lost it. The world’s better where I’m from… you’re supposed to be a good person a-and… I h-hate to see you like this, Germany, I really do… I don’t want to lose my memories! I don’t want to live in a world where everyone except you despises me but tries to hide it with a smile because they’re afraid! I-“

Germany silenced him with a kiss. Prussia wanted to pull away but Germany’s hands grasped the sides of his head, thumbs grazing his cheeks, and he was both suffocating and thrilled. All too aware of the emptiness around his neck, the loss of something to hold onto, he stiffened, falling, unable to keep on struggling, and there were cold trails on his cheeks that could only be from tears. After everything, Germany’s lips were still soft and they were still warm and he was still doomed to enjoy it when they brushed against his, when there was a tongue following the curve of his mouth, nudging against his, and he let out a low sigh.

“You’re confused,” Germany murmured, his breath tickling Prussia’s lips. For a moment Prussia wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them once more. “Why do you think this isn’t the world that’s supposed to be? You don’t seem to hate it as much as you pretend to do and I’m sure it’s only a question of time until you enjoy what we’ve accomplished again. You’re too hard on yourself… England’s doing, I’m sure. But don’t worry, brother… I’m going to protect you from him.”

“The… the only one I need protection from… is you,” Prussia rasped, but it was hard to sound convincing when there was tingling heat running through his body, when he knew all too well there was a part of him that wanted to nod and smile and lean into Germany’s touch. “The only mistake I made was… thinking I couldn’t be happy in my reality… the true reality… and I’m going to re-establish it, if you want it or not.”

When he picked up his bag and fled the room, he was glad the words sounded more confident than he was feeling. He knew time was running. There was no way to say if he even got as much as another day.

During the drive back to Berlin he used the device their driver had lent him to call every general and soldier he could think of to get information on England. Though, to no avail. Either they allegedly didn’t know Arthur Kirkland or they flat-out refused to tell him his whereabouts, making stupid excuses. It was undoubtedly because of Germany’s orders even though no one was brave enough to admit it. If it had been his own phone, he might have thrown it out of the car window out of frustration.

It was sometime after the fourth hour since they had left Copenhagen when a sense of helplessness took hold of him, the last sparks of anger trickling away like melting snow. Anger was exhausting. Fighting was exhausting. If there was no light at the end of the tunnel, why should he keep walking?

It wasn’t long before Prussia was drowning in misery, wondering what he could have done differently, if there wasn’t anything England and he had overlooked. What had England said about the wishing well again?

_I’d never make a wish at a well guarded by a black dog._

Prussia couldn’t help but snort at the memory. He wouldn’t repeat that mistake, that much was certain. If he didn’t forget about it, that was. He gulped, shoving the unpleasant thought away.

_It could have been a hellhound, perhaps a shapeshifting demon… black dogs are portents of death…_

Prussia frowned. Did he have to read books about demons now? Hopefully not. There was no way he would have enough time to do that. Besides, he could still hear Russia’s voice whispering in his mind: _If it had been easy to get here, it shouldn’t be difficult to return. Sometimes the easiest solutions are the right ones._

Why couldn’t that be true? What kind of easy solution was hiding in plain sight? What was he missing?

 _There’s a shadow clinging to you…,_ Russia had said, noting something England hadn’t been able to see. _Sometimes people who are about to die have such a shadow. Yours, though… it’s fading…”_

He hadn’t been able to say if that was a good thing and now there was no possibility to ask him about it again. Prussia clenched his teeth. If only England had been there to talk to Russia, too… he knew so much more about magic and the wishing well had been in his capital after all. Prussia going to talk to Russia about the topic was like asking a musician to make a painting of a king. It was bound to end with a guillotine and a lost head.

England… England, vanished and forced to suffer for his mistakes, was believing in him. Belgium had supported him ever since she knew the truth. Russia had believed he could do this as well. He had even died for him. Prussia let out a strangled sigh. Why was he feeling as if he had no choice but to disappoint them?

He pinched the bridge of this nose, corners of his mouth pointed downwards, when he froze, his heart skipping a beat. What if… what if there was a solution hiding in plain sight after all? What if there was a way for him to reject the wish, to re-establish their reality without spells or lies or talismans? What if there was something only he could do after all?

He let his hand fall down, gaze directed at his lap without really looking at it. There was a plan forming in his mind even though he even had no idea if it would be wise to carry it out. It was like looking at scattered pieces of a puzzle and knowing how to put them together after a single glance. It would be easy. He wouldn’t need to drive to another country to meet a sworn enemy. He could do it on his own and he could do it at home. It might be risky and he had no idea if it was the right thing to do except from a fluttery feeling in his gut, but hadn’t England already risked so much more for him?

Maybe it was time for him to take a leap of faith. If it didn’t work… well, then maybe that was the fate that was meant for him after all. At least he wouldn’t be hurting anymore.

 _It has to be today_ , Prussia decided, a grim smile on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. If he couldn’t help England directly, this might be his best shot.

He didn’t even look at Germany when they arrived in Berlin but hurried to cross the distance to the mansion, locking himself into his office. More than once did he hear steps coming from the hallway, sometimes pausing in front of the door for a while, sometimes walking by as if by accident.

Germany decided to knock twice. The first time he asked what Prussia was doing and left when there wasn’t an answer. The second time, almost a whole hour later, his voice sounded considerably more annoyed, though Prussia kept ignoring him, no matter what question he asked him. If it was childish of him to do so, he didn’t care. He had every right to be angry.

When he left the room, it was late enough for the moon to shine through the windows, the hallway covered with silver light. He was careful not to meet Germany, freezing and hiding at every unforeseen noise, until he was able to reach the dining hall and sneak into the kitchen.

Belgium’s cheek was swollen, the bruise only barely hidden by concealer, and her gaze was worried when it grazed him. It grew only more worried when he gave her an envelope and explained what was inside, thanking her for everything she had done but, still, asking for a last favour. He felt bad for asking for her help again, especially after the last plan hadn’t played out as they had hoped. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

When he left the room, he could feel her eyes following him and he wondered if there was fear, if there was pity, if there was sadness in her eyes. He didn’t dare to look back, lest he might try to tear the envelope in half and discard the plan after all.

He went outside and sat down on a bench. It was hidden by the darkness of the night but still had a nice view on an old oak swaying in the wind and the lovely flowers blossoming beneath it, their petals glimmering like fine china in the moonlight. It wasn’t windy but there was a light breeze just cool enough to make him be happy he had brought a jacket with him. He looked up at the stars and wished England were here, wished they could talk and he could ask all the questions still burning on his tongue. Wished he could apologise over and over again because it would never be enough. Wished he could tell him so much more.

He tried not to think of Germany even though his silhouette kept popping up in his mind whenever he dared to let his thoughts wander. Whenever it happened, he quickly shook his head and focused on something else, something that wouldn’t make him doubt, something that wouldn’t put his plan at risk.

When Prussia went back inside, he couldn’t say he was well prepared but he felt like he could do what needed to be done. He didn’t have to wait more than a few minutes for Germany to appear in the entrance hall, almost as if he had summoned him with his mere presence. He couldn’t help but feel as if the wait had been both too long and too short.

“If avoiding me makes you feel better, keep doing it by all means,” Germany muttered, the barely supressed anger in his tone contradicting his words. “It doesn’t make me change my mind, though, and it certainly doesn’t help England.”

Prussia took a deep breath, his heart fluttering in his chest like a caged bird. It was unfair how Germany, all the ugliness of his soul revealed, was still beautiful enough to him to almost make him forget the very words he was about to say. Was it the magic taking hold of him and pushing doubts and old beliefs out of his mind? Or had he always been a helpless case?

“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” Prussia said, narrowing his eyes because it might just make him angry even though he wasn’t and anger was good. Anger was something he could work with. “There was something I needed to do.”

Germany made a few steps toward him and Prussia had to fight the urge to approach him as well, to reach out until he would be able to touch familiar skin, to feel familiar body heat close to his. Germany had been right. He couldn’t deny there was one thing he liked about this world, maybe a few things even. Though, not enough to justify burning the old one to ashes.

“Ah, really?” Germany tilted his head, eyes scanning Prussia as if trying to read his mind. “If you’re done with it, you should go to bed… you’ve been shot recently, you shouldn’t overexert yourself.”

He sighed, lines of his face softening, a tired expression rushing through his eyes. It was only after a long moment that he continued speaking and when he did, his voice was somewhat shaky, as if his nonchalant demeanour was only a farce he was struggling to keep up.

“I’m sorry, Prussia. I’m sorry you have to go through this… I’m not doing this to hurt you. I… I love you…,” Germany whispered, a tortured expression twisting his face. It was almost enough for Prussia to throw all caution to the winds and to pull him into a hug. He wanted to forgive him, he wanted to love him so very much, it hurt not to do it, as if he were tearing apart his own body by keeping himself from doing it.

“I don’t know how much England told you but, well, to say it was a surprise when you kissed me shortly after I’ve woken up here is a bit of an understatement…” Prussia bit his lip, crossing his arms. He didn’t fight to keep up his frown when he just couldn’t force himself to be angry anymore. “Still, I want you to know… I… I’ve always thought you’re the best thing about this world. It’s nice to… well, to be loved, I guess… but if I can’t have both your love and a world that’s not only good for a select few… I have to stop being selfish and do what’s right.”

Maybe Prussia wasn’t that good at keeping his thoughts and emotions out of his expression after all because Germany’s eyes widened, a look of growing horror in them. “What… what did you do, Prussia?”

Prussia stiffened, averting his eyes. “I haven’t done much… yet. I did send Belgium away with a letter for the Emperor about two hours ago.”

He took a deep breath, raising his voice, glad it wasn’t shaking. When he spoke, there was a sad smile on his face.

“I’m signing my land and my people over to you, Germany. Belgium, the former Luxembourg, West and East Prussia… you’re going to represent them from now on. I choose to give them up because… that’s how it’s supposed to be. Prussia isn’t supposed to exist as a country in 1965… I shouldn’t exist. M-maybe if I die… everything’s going to be alright…”

Prussia had expected Germany to try to stop him but he hadn’t expected him to be that fast. The Luger already in his hand and loaded, it should have been easy to overcome those last centimetres to press the barrel against his temple, to pull the trigger. It should have been easy but maybe some part of him had hesitated after all, maybe some part of him had seen the shock and panic in Germany’s eyes flaring up like a fire in the darkness and had stopped, if only for a second. Maybe that pause had been enough to change easy into impossible.

Prussia could feel the trigger give way just when Germany’s hand met his wrist, the momentum strong enough to throw his arm backward, tilting it just enough to make the shot pass by his head, to make it smash through the window behind them. There was a loud ringing in his ears but Prussia didn’t care, putting all his effort into getting a good grip on the gun again while Germany was giving everything to make him lose it. Sweat made the metal slide out of his hands with every passing second a bit more and Prussia, feverishly trying to dodge Germany’s hands and feet, cursed under his breath when he realised it wouldn’t be enough.

“You know I can’t let you do that,” Germany growled. When he grabbed Prussia’s wrist, pressing the nail of his thumb into the sensitive skin just below his palm and into the blue vein running through it, it was just painful enough to make Prussia wince, a tremor running through his body. There was a loud clang when the gun fell to the floor.

Prussia tried to reach for it but Germany realised what he wanted to do quickly enough to give the weapon a hasty kick, making it spin to the other end of the room, while also tightening his grip on Prussia’s wrist. Prussia made a fist and aimed for his face but as uncoordinated as the blow was, it was all too easy for Germany to dodge it. It shouldn’t have been surprising for him to lose a hand-on-hand-fight with Germany of all people after he hadn’t fought in decades, but it still stung, even worsened by the stakes of the situation.

Caught up by the moment, he didn’t notice that the entrance door opened, just as he hadn’t noticed the headlights of a car cutting through the darkness of the night just outside their windows. He didn’t even notice the change of Germany’s expression as his gaze wandered away from Prussia’s face and to a point somewhere behind his shoulder, the wary confusion, the shock, until it was too late.

“If I can’t have the gun, I’ll just use something else,” Prussia hissed. “I’m going to die… and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Maybe I can help you with that,” Austria said. “You really shouldn’t have betrayed us, Germany.”

There was the sound of a gun being fired and it wasn’t his, the echo loud in the wide hall.

Prussia gasped, wondering why he hadn’t heard an impact just when his knees gave way, when the edges of his view became black. He blinked and somehow that was enough time for him to lie on his back now, the golden ceiling glimmering high, high above him. A dull pain began to spread through his body from somewhere in his chest, only to be replaced by a strange numbness and the feeling of a blanket that couldn’t be there covering his lower body.

Someone said his name but he couldn’t make out who and maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe all he needed to do was closing his eyes and giving in in to the darkness waiting to embrace him.

 _You’re wrong, Russia_ , was Prussia’s last thought. If he had been able to laugh, he might have laughed. _This wasn’t easy at all._

~


	18. Don't Forget

**Chapter 16: Don’t Forget**

**~**

The ringing of the alarm clock was loud in Prussia’s ears. He tore his eyes open but still needed a few moments until he was able to move, his whole body shaking, his breath coming in panting huffs. Austria had shot him. He must have realised Russia wasn’t behind the death of his Emperor after all, must have come to take revenge, or declare war on them, and, damn, he had shot him. 

Prussia could feel his chest tingling, the spot where the bullet must have hit him throbbing slightly, though when he kicked the blankets off his body and looked down, there was only healthy, pale skin. No wound. He took a deep breath and the feeling faded like the night’s darkness fleeing at dawn.

It was only then that he realised he wasn’t lying on a stone floor beneath a golden ceiling anymore but in a bed in a hotel room. The window next to him was wide open, the sounds from the street below it reaching into the room, the chit-chat of people going to work or school, the distant wail of a siren, the odd chant of a bird. The blue curtains were fluttering in the breeze.

When he looked to the other side, there was another bed, empty though, the blankets neatly folded beneath a white pillow, almost as if there hadn’t been anyone sleeping in it the night before. However, Prussia knew that wasn’t the case. When he reached over to get his phone, turning off the alarm with trembling hands, he felt a wave of excitement running through him.

He rose just when the door to the bathroom opened and Germany stepped out of it, already dressed in an elegant, tailored suit. Right, there was a conference today, wasn’t it? They had arrived in London the day before to avoid a stressful flight during the night and also because Germany was always worried about being late. They were in London and the year was 2018.

“You know, Prussia… I, er, I’m sorry about what I said yesterday,” Germany mumbled, sounding somewhat breathless. When he rubbed his neck, he looked lost, like a tourist in a foreign city. “I should have known better… I’m glad you’re here with me and I do think you’re a great help… I don’t know where I would be today if you hadn’t been there for me a-and…”

Germany’s eyes focused on him, his brows creasing slightly. “Prussia…? Are you… _crying_?”

“N-no, of course not, w-why should I?” Prussia whispered, snorting. It sounded more like a suppressed sob. He realised he was wrong when he brought a hand to his face to rub his eyes, cold, wet trails clinging to his skin, when he had to blink hastily to keep his view from getting blurry.

He didn’t realise he was crossing the room with quick steps until he was close enough to Germany to see the ceiling light reflected in his eyes. He reached out, curling his arms around Germany’s back and pressing himself against his body, chin resting on top of his shoulder. There was the distinct note of fresh aftershave in the air and Prussia had never liked the smell more. He couldn’t even think about what he was doing, he just knew he needed to know if this was real, if it wasn’t just a dream after all. Germany’s body was solid, though, wasn’t just a hallucination bound to fade away, and the room didn’t change shape and colour either.

He really was back.

“P-Prussia…?” Germany said next to his ear, hesitantly returning the hug, right hand gently resting against the small of his back. “What…?”

Prussia sighed, rubbed his eyes for a last time, and pulled away, neck tingling slightly. Germany had no idea of what he had been through. The eight days Prussia had spent in that alternate reality had just been a night for him. Of course, he was confused about this emotional outburst. 

“Sorry, I’m… I’m a bit overwhelmed right now,” Prussia murmured, grinning shakily. “I’m just so, so glad to be back, you… you really can’t believe it.” 

Germany frowned. “Back… from where? Haven’t you been here last night?” 

Prussia looked at him and somehow his throat was too tight, filled with words he knew he would never be able to say, words he wanted to say but didn’t know how. He swallowed hard. 

“I… I’ll explain everything to you later. Maybe. The conference should be starting soon, right?” It was getting easier to smile. He felt light, almost as if he could fly if he dared to jump from the cliff. “There’s someone I’d really, really like to see.” 

~ 

Prussia had never been so damn excited to go to a boring world conference. On their way to the conference room he couldn’t help but smile at every person passing by, most of them ignoring him, some eying him suspiciously as if he were about to steal their purses. 

When they arrived, only a few other countries were already there, thanks to Germany’s notorious punctuality, but Prussia couldn’t care less. He made out Belgium in the corner of the room and couldn’t resist running up to her to give her a tight hug. She let out a surprised squeal, though relaxed as soon as she saw who was embracing her. 

“Belgium! My very favourite European country! Man, I’m happy to see you.” 

“Prussia…?” Belgium mumbled, eyes wide. She gave him a hesitant smile. “I didn’t know you were coming as well… it’s nice, though. You… you’re looking good.” 

A blush crept up her cheeks. “I m-mean, you seem to be doing well and that’s great. Spain told me you’ve been in a bit of a bad mood recently, so I’m glad to see that has changed.” 

Prussia looked at her, taking in the rosy shine of her cheeks, the warm and hopeful expression brightening her face, so beautifully different from the broken reflection of 1965. 

“Thank you, Belgium,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful because of her words or because of something else, something secret, something bound to only exist in his memory from now on. It didn’t matter. “You know, I… I think you’re doing a great job, please don’t ever change.” 

“Oh.” Belgium’s brows rose high enough to disappear beneath her bangs. “Thank you, I guess…” 

Prussia grinned at her. “No problem.” 

He went to talk to France and Spain next, earning bewildered looks from both of them as they noticed his unnaturally good mood. It wasn’t surprising. They knew all too well he usually wasn’t a beacon of motivation and excitement at meetings like this. Prussia had to endure a lot of bad jokes, ranging from an alien using his body to a secret lover, until they were ready to let the topic go. 

When Russia arrived a few minutes later, he almost went to hug him as well but could stop himself in the last possible moment. Hugging Russia would really have been too out of character for him to explain. 

However, there was one person who still wasn’t there and, coincidentally, it was just the person he wanted so see the most. The longer he waited, the more often did his gaze wander to the door, hoping to see a certain pair of green eyes roam over the room. Every passing minute installed a fresh sense of anxiety in him, until he felt like he was ready to burst of anticipation. He wondered if it was too early to call him, if that would make him seem paranoid, light nausea making his stomach twist. 

There were first voices other than his own asking for the missing country just when the door opened and England came strolling in, his gaze absent, his hands clutching a bag with papers and pencils poking out. Prussia rose before he could stop himself, almost knocking over his own chair thereby. 

“England!” he yelled loud enough to make several countries turn their heads at him. 

England stiffened, his eyes widening ever so slightly. His head twitched as if he wanted to turn it around but stopped himself halfway through the motion like a car coming to a screeching halt. There was a moment in which the room seemed to be frozen in time, in which Prussia held his breath, waiting for a smile, a greeting, a look, anything. But, no, England only straightened his back and raised his chin and continued walking to the other end of the table as if he hadn’t even heard him. It was worse than a slap in the face. 

Prussia stared after him, corners of his mouth sinking down, his mind empty. England must have heard him, his voice had been loud enough to wake the sleeping Greece on the other side of the room. England was ignoring him. Prussia frowned, a dull pain ringing through his chest. Why the hell was he ignoring him? 

He didn’t notice he was still standing until Spain’s hand curled around his arm to pull him back on his chair. 

“I don’t think England wants to talk to you, mon ami,” France said, lips curling into a smirk. 

“I’m not blind,” Prussia snapped, crossing his arms. He had to withstand the urge to glance at England once more, an odd feeling running through his body, making his mind spin and his body restless. He felt cold despite the sun light reaching into the room and warming his back. When he had rejected his wish and had brought back their world, he had also erased a whole alternate reality.

What if he was remembering the time only because it had been his wish and his decisions leading up to this moment? What if England, who had accompanied him by accident and not because he had wanted to do it, who had been angry to have ended up there ever since they had first talked in that cell in the German military base, wasn’t remembering what had happened? 

“Why do you want to talk to him anyway?” France tilted his head. “He’s such a bore… and this temper, horrible. You’re better off being ignored, trust me.” 

Spain chuckled. “You’re only saying that because he turned you down when you asked him on a date a few years ago.” 

France pursed his lips, his expression darkening. “That… was a mistake. I know better now. And you should know better than to bring that up, Spain. We’re supposed to be friends!” 

Prussia stopped listening. He flipped through the notes Germany had given him to look busy but his mind was elsewhere. He wouldn’t have been able to say if the words were written in Spanish or English or Russian or any other language for that matter. If England wasn’t remembering what had happened… was that a bad thing? It wasn’t as if it had been a fun and relaxing wellness holiday. It wasn’t exactly something worth remembering, was it? 

Still, Prussia couldn’t help but feel bitter about it. 

The remaining conference went by in a blur. He wouldn’t have been able to say what it had been about. Even the parts he had been helping Germany with vanished from his mind as soon as they were spoken out loud. He couldn’t tell how many countries were presenting a statement or topic to be discussed, let alone who exactly. 

When someone declared the conference to be over, he was one of the first to rise even though he still had to wait for Germany to tuck away his documents. He was caught up in his thoughts, each one darker and more depressing than the last, when a hand brushed his arm, the touch almost too light to feel. Nevertheless, Prussia looked up. 

“Can you help me with something?” England asked, gesturing to Prussia to follow him. “It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” 

He still wasn’t looking at him, gaze flickering through the room as if everything in it was more interesting than Prussia in front of him. Nevertheless, Prussia couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope lighting up inside him. 

“Sure.” He grinned nervously. 

The more they were distancing themselves from the others, the more did his heart pick up speed. By the time they were alone in an empty room similar to the one they had held the conference in, it was racing as if he were running a marathon. England made sure the door was closed behind them and only then turned around to face him.

“So… I have to admit I’m curious. How did you do it?” 

“Do what?” Prussia raised his brows. Did he dare to hope England was talking about what he thought he was talking about? 

England rolled his eyes. “Bring us back, of course. Re-establish our reality.” 

Prussia couldn’t have stopped the corners of his mouth from curling into a smile if he had wanted to. He felt as if a weight had fallen off his chest and now that it was gone he wondered why he had had any doubt in the first place. 

“So you do remember everything?” he asked, eyes roaming over England’s face trying to deduce what he was thinking. It didn’t work. “Why did you ignore me when I called you then?” 

Prussia thought his voice sounded much too disappointed for such a small issue and he hoped England didn’t notice. Fortunately, England didn’t comment on it. Though, what he said was even worse, not even including the way his eyes narrowed and the way his voice grew cold like ice. 

“Why did you think it would be a good idea to yell at me from across the room as if… as if I were some kind of… lost dog…?” A shudder ran through England and he crossed his arms. “You’re not even supposed to like me… your friends are going to wonder what’s going on between us a-and I don’t want them to draw the wrong conclusions, do you understand me? Whatever happened in that… world stays there.” 

His gaze wandered to the clock on the wall, though Prussia knew he couldn’t be wanting to look at it because it wasn’t even working, the hands missing. England let out a strangled sigh. 

“I just want to know if we’re really done with it… if you’re done with it… and how to stop it from ever happening again. I’m tired of waking up and not knowing if that’s the day I get shot or beaten up o-or thrown into a cell all over again,” he growled, glaring at the clock. “When I woke up today I very nearly decided to skip this bloody meeting to get some well-deserved rest...” 

Prussia stared at him, unable to say anything. He noticed England was trembling, though he couldn’t say if it was because of anger or because of… something else. His chest hurt as if someone were squeezing his heart and when he tried to form words, he felt as if he had eaten something rotten. What could he possibly reply to that? 

“Now, do you want to keep it a secret or do you just don’t want to tell me?” If possible, England’s face had darkened even more. Though, there wasn’t only anger in his voice. If Prussia hadn’t know better, he might have sounded… sad. 

“Eh, no,” he ground out, scrambling for words. It was hard to speak when his whole body was urging him to do something to help England, to erase all the darkness inside his mind and to make him smile again. “I… w-well… I signed my lands over to Germany and, uh… killed myself.” 

It wasn’t the most poetic way to describe what he had done and it wasn’t the whole truth either but it certainly seemed to have an impact on England. He yanked his head around and met Prussia’s gaze, his eyes wide and shocked. 

“Y-you… killed yourself?!” he gasped out, shaking his head. “Why did you do that, you idiot?! What if it hadn’t worked? You could have died for real!” 

Prussia swallowed hard. He hadn’t expected this kind of intense reaction. “I… I didn’t die, okay? It was worth the try. Germany didn’t want to tell me where you were and I knew I didn’t have that much time left.” 

He raised his chin, a wave of determination running through him. 

“Even if I had died for real, at least then I wouldn’t have been forced to forget you a-and our world… we would’ve been enemies, England! I don’t want to know what I’d have done to you, to Belgium, to everyone, if I had just given up… I… I’d kill myself over and over again if I knew there was even the slightest chance I could help you with it.” 

It was only when he noticed England wasn’t saying anything, when the silence took over and let his thoughts grow loud and his emotions become quiet that he realised what he had said. It almost seemed as if his words were screaming right back at him, their echo filling the room, making it difficult to breathe, and Prussia wondered how those words could have slipped out of his mouth. Maybe because they were true. England cleared his throat, cheeks painted a soft pink. He looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here. 

“Don’t… don’t say anything like that,” he croaked, face twisted into a grimace. “N-not... not if you don’t mean it...” 

Prussia looked at him and something in him, a barrier in his mind maybe, broke like a dam after rainy days. He knew there was no coming back from the words he had spoken, so he might as well just roll with it and tell the truth. No more lying, no more hiding. He had been forced to do it more than enough in those last days. 

“Of course, I mean it!” A spark of anger ran through him. How could England even consider he would be joking about this? “You’re important to me, England. You gave me the strength to keep fighting, you were there for me, you helped me... I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I owe you and I always will. I can only try to make it up to you somehow a-and, still, I can’t help but wish you wouldn’t have been there with me because you didn’t deserve anything of the bad stuff that was thrown at you. You’re smart and beautiful and caring and I just freaking hate myself for being the reason you got hurt.”

He clenched his hands, trying to keep himself from shaking, trying to keep his eyes from burning and his heart from aching. “I’m sorry, so damn sorry about all this...” 

He rubbed his face, hiding behind his palm, eyes pressed shut. He took a deep breath, another one. When he laughed weakly, the sound would have been more fitting for a funeral. He grinned humourlessly. 

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

There was silence. It was the worst kind of silence, the one you didn’t want to endure because it felt like needles in your skin. The one you didn’t want to see end either because what would come afterwards might just be worse. Prussia didn’t dare to open his eyes. He didn’t dare to move. He kept standing in the centre of the room and he kept waiting for a voice that would either free or doom him. England let out a strangled noise, somewhere between sigh and groan. Prussia wasn’t prepared for how desperate and utterly broken his voice sounded when he spoke. 

“W-what the bloody hell do you expect me to say?!” 

Prussia’s hand fell down as if someone had cut the strings holding it. He tore his eyes open to look at England, feeling as if the earth must be crumbling beneath his feet. England’s smile was sad and tortured, as if he had to force himself not to cry. “How can you expect me to believe you?” 

Prussia opened his mouth to explain, to yell at England, if necessary, though England didn’t let him speak. 

“I’m talking about Germany, you idiot!” 

Prussia froze. “G-Germany...?” 

“Germany,” England repeated. “You love him. Don’t try to tell me you’ve been putting up an act. I’ve seen you. I’m not blind. Even if y-you… if you did like me, I know he’d always be your first choice.”

England’s voice became quiet, the syllables shaky and weak like autumn leaves in the wind. His shoulders were slumping down as if he were giving in to a weight above him. He didn’t seem to be fighting it.

“I don’t want to stand by and see you yearn for something I can’t give you… I don’t want to be the next best option because you think you can’t have him… y-you… you can’t ask that of me…”

Prussia didn’t know how he was able to speak but he surprised himself.

“I love Germany,” he said slowly. “B-but… that doesn’t mean I’d rather have him than you. Can’t you see? I’ve already made my choice. I could’ve stayed in that other reality and, as much as I’d love to claim the opposite, there’re things I’ve liked about it… and yeah, being with Germany was one of those things. However, I didn’t do it. I didn’t want it… not if it meant losing you…”

Prussia took a deep breath, licking his lips, his body both too light and too heavy.

“So… if you want to think about it, I can’t blame you. I know it’s unfair of me a-and… selfish. Still, I needed to tell you. I… I would’ve gone crazy if I hadn’t told you…”

He rubbed his neck, chuckling shakily. “So… if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’ll wait for it… j-just, please don’t think I only want you because I’m desperate and Germany doesn’t want to kiss me. That’s just wrong. I want you because I like you… it’s that simple.”

England tilted his head just enough for their eyes to meet and there was nothing Prussia could do not to get lost in that gaze. There were more things he wanted to say but they slipped out of his mind like water trickling through cupped hands. He wondered if what he had said made even sense or if England was thinking he had gone mad after all.

“I’d like to say you’re confused and that you don’t know what you’re talking about a-and that I hate to have this conversation… b-but…”

England let out a small sigh. If consciously or not, his back straightened and the shaking of his body stopped and it was as if he were letting go of a tension that had long been part of him, too long maybe. Prussia waited for him to continue, for an answer, for something that told him he hadn’t made a complete fool out of himself. England stayed silent, though maybe he didn’t even need to say anything.

Maybe it was enough of an answer when he crossed the distance between them, pausing in front of Prussia, their gazes locked like two interwoven pieces of fabric, and there was clarity inside him as he found in that gaze what he was looking for, what he was hoping for.

When England closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss him, it wasn’t a surprise, but it was a moment of euphoria, nevertheless. It felt right in a way his kisses in that other world hadn’t been, couldn’t have been, and if there was still any doubt in him, it vanished like a firework. Colourful but fleeting. And soon forgotten.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The chapter's title is taken from this quote:_
> 
> _“But the thing about remembering is that you don't forget.” - Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried_
> 
> [I know the ending is kind of really open, there are some things left up for imagination, such as Germany's reaction to what happened or if Prussia really tells him about it in the first place, but it felt natural to stop here. I might write a follow-up OS in the future but for now this is the end. I hope you enjoyed the story, I certainly had much fun writing it ;) A big thanks to everyone who left comments or kudos or simply followed the story. Have a good day, everyone!]


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